Chris is a father, partner, union member, activist, labor movement professional, music fan, biker, and yoga practitioner (among other things) working in and living around Washington, DC.
It is July 4, 2026, and dear friends and family, Washington, DC is kind of a clusterfuck at the moment. Perhaps it's the triple-digit heat index. Or the low-level flyovers of military aircraft over the last several days, entertainment for the sunstroke victims on the National
That's the refrain, right? For when you're first shown the lines on the pregnancy test, for when you hold them as a newborn for the first time, for when you send them into the care of someone you only just met. The first illness, the first
It has been a challenge to write for this newsletter so far. There's the time issue - work, volunteer, social, and family obligations don't stop (thankfully!), and 60 minutes doesn't seem to hold the same value it once had. I'm also trying to
The thought of Presidents' Day moved me immediately to "Time to buy a new mattress! Or a new car! Or if you have a car, new tires!" Then, a hazy recollection from elementary school and junior high: in art class, we were given the opportunity to participate
Last week's purgative episode provided some insight into the belief in demons: the expulsions, being rendered a husk, certain that I was being called to take heed and change. It was certainly a hard reboot, a bit of an ass-kicking requiring me to lay low, take stock,
And to top it all of, our household has been laid low by the stomach flu. I'll get back to it next week. I hope you are well, warm, and finding moments of good for which to be grateful.
Most reading this are at the age where our awareness of the quickening passage of time now spans decades, so it's a certain testament to the powers of the current Government of the United States and its enablers (foreign and domestic) in their ability to stretch out every
Correction: A previous version which was sent out via newsletter repeatedly misidentified Renee Good as "Rachel." I deeply regret the error and have corrected it throughout the piece. I suppose one of the obligations imposed by writing my personal reflections is ceding a certain amount of editorial control
This is my fourth start at this. My first draft was an alienating, funny-to-me-in-the-moment mess of insular jokes and obscure references. The second was an earnest statement of purpose that felt a little sterile, the third a passionate crie de cœur that went long on