Monday, September 22, 2025

Autumn Leaves 🍁

The falling leaves drift by my window
The autumn leaves of red and gold
I see your lips, the summer kisses

The sun-burned hands I used to hold


I’ve always loved this song. I think I first heard it on the Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil soundtrack, which features only Johnny Mercer songs, since his house in Savannah is pivotal to the story. That soundtrack is still one of my favorites, and Mercer’s music never fails to strike a chord with me.


Today is the first day of autumn. Vermont is one of the most beautiful and scenic places in the world this time of year. People from all over the globe make their way here just to see the “autumn leaves of red and gold.” This year, though, they might be a little disappointed if they’ve visited before. With the drought Vermont and much of New England has faced, the colors aren’t quite as vibrant as they usually are. Still, if you’ve never seen Vermont in “leafing” season, it’s breathtaking. And truth be told, those postcards and pictures—like the classic images of Stowe—are often enhanced to make them more vibrant than what nature actually gives us. In reality, it’s more like the softer, subtler version you’ll see in the second picture of Stowe below.


No matter what, autumn in Vermont is a season worth savoring. I hope everyone has a wonderful week and a scenic fall. And like Mercer’s lyrics remind us, each season carries its own beauty and its own memories—some bright, some bittersweet, but all worth holding close.


Sunday, September 21, 2025

Pic of the Day


Grace in Every Word

“Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.”
—Ephesians 4:29

Words matter. For those of us in the LGBTQ+ community, we know all too well the pain that can come from words spoken carelessly—or cruelly. Many of us grew up hearing slurs hurled at us, sermons that condemned us, or even loved ones telling us we were “wrong.” These words linger. They can cut deep, echoing long after they are spoken. Ephesians 4:29 calls us to something radically different: to use our words not as weapons but as instruments of grace, to speak in ways that build up rather than tear down.

Proverbs 18:21 reminds us, “The tongue has the power of life and death.” That verse feels very real when you think of young people—especially LGBTQ+ youth—who are struggling with identity, acceptance, and belonging. We all know the statistics: depression, bullying, and suicide rates are higher among LGBTQ+ youth. In such cases, a kind or encouraging word isn’t just nice—it can literally mean the difference between despair and hope, even between life and death.

As a former teacher, I lived this reality. I could not be openly gay in the classroom, but my students suspected. They knew they could come talk to me. And many did. Sometimes all they needed was a listening ear or a gentle reminder that they mattered. Today, some teachers can be more open about their sexuality, but in too many states, laws are being passed that forbid even mentioning it. In some classrooms, a photo of a teacher’s spouse on a desk is considered “illegal.” Yet the presence of a safe adult—someone who is open, or at the very least welcoming—is a lifeline.

That’s why I proudly display a Safe Zone sign by my office door. It’s a silent but powerful word of welcome: “You are safe here. You are seen here. You are valued here.” Teachers have always had the ability to change lives, but in today’s climate, it is especially important to let students know: It Gets Better.

Jesus himself was often called “Teacher,” and his words reflect the very heart of Ephesians 4:29. He used his voice to uplift the poor, to comfort the outcast, and to challenge those who abused their power. His Sermon on the Mount gave hope to the weary; his parables painted visions of justice and mercy; his rebukes exposed hypocrisy and oppression. To be like Christ is to use our words in the same way—to heal rather than to harm, to invite rather than exclude, to proclaim God’s love in a world that too often echoes with condemnation.

And whether or not you stand at the front of a classroom, you have that same power. Words are not confined to teachers—they belong to parents, mentors, co-workers, supervisors, and friends. If you are guiding a child, mentoring a young adult, or training an employee, your words carry weight. A simple encouragement can inspire confidence; a harsh comment can wound deeply. Each of us has the power to change someone’s life through the way we speak. The question is whether we will use that power to tear down or to build up.

Scripture offers us a vision of speech that heals. Proverbs 15:1 says, “A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.” James 1:19 adds, “Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.” Imagine if our leaders, our schools, our churches lived out those verses. Imagine if public discourse sought to build up those most vulnerable instead of exploiting them for power.

In Colossians 4:6, Paul exhorts us: “Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone.” Grace-filled speech doesn’t mean silence in the face of injustice—it means that even when we speak hard truths, we do so with the goal of healing, of justice, of love. And for teachers, mentors, and leaders of all kinds, that means modeling kindness and affirmation in every interaction, showing others by example that their worth is non-negotiable.

Ephesians 4:29 is not just about avoiding “bad language.” It is about cultivating a culture of love. It is about recognizing that our words can be lifelines—reminders of hope, courage, and belonging. When we choose words that build up, we are declaring to the world: we are here, we are loved, and we are worthy.

May we guard our tongues not out of fear, but out of love. May we speak words that carry the fragrance of Christ, words that heal the wounds so many of us have endured, and words that remind one another of the deep truth: we are made in God’s image. And may we especially use our words to build up the next generation, who are longing to hear that their lives matter and that their future is worth holding onto.

Friday, September 19, 2025

Pic of the Day

Not Thankful It’s Friday

Usually I look forward to Fridays, but not this week. I’m not even looking forward to Saturday. This weekend brings with it our big annual set of events at the museum, which means lots of tours, lots of visitors, and lots of chaos. Today I have multiple tours lined up, and tomorrow I’ll be back again for one or two more—yes, working on a Saturday. Yesterday I put in a twelve-hour day, came home, and went straight to bed. This morning I’m running on sheer habit and coffee. 

 If there’s a silver lining, it’s that today will “only” be an eight-hour day and tomorrow about six. That may not sound like much of a break, but after the marathon that was yesterday, it’s something to be thankful for. Really, I’ll only feel relief when Sunday finally rolls around and I can rest, free from the craziness and hoopla. 

 And here is your Isabella Pic of the Week. This is the look I get when I’m not petting her as much as she thinks I should. Normally she likes to curl up on my hip, but with my back problems she hasn’t been able to. Instead, she’s taken to lying on my chest. It’s her version of cuddling, and honestly, I’ll take it.

Thursday, September 18, 2025

Pic of the Day

Bronze and Geometry: Art Deco’s Ideal Man

Maurice Guiraud Rivière, “Centerpiece Supported by Three
Nude Male Figures,” c. 1930s

When most people picture Art Deco, the mind goes to sleek skyscrapers, angular ornament, and those famous female dancer figurines with ivory faces and bronze limbs. But the 1920s and 1930s also produced a remarkable body of male imagery, especially in sculpture, where the male nude was celebrated as much for its athletic power as for its aesthetic beauty.

Sculptural Heroes
The Strength, A bronze group by Maurice Guiraud-Rivière (1881-1947), circa 1930


Auguste Durin crafted muscular athletes whose streamlined bodies recalled both ancient Greek statues and modern gymnasiums. His bronzes often highlight the flex of a thigh or the arc of a torso, creating men who feel both timeless and distinctly of their era. Maurice Guiraud-Rivière gave us dynamic bronzes of runners, discus throwers, and hunters; their bodies drawn into taut, geometric rhythms as if caught in perpetual motion.

Clarte Standing Nude with Globe by Max Le Verrier 
Demétre H. Chiparus, though famous for exotic female dancers, did not neglect men altogether—his Le Premier Pas shows a young nude stepping forward with deliberate grace, his body a harmony of energy and elegance. Max Le Verrier, perhaps the most recognizable name in Art Deco sculpture, created striking athletic youths such as Clarté, a lamp-bearing nude male who holds a glowing globe aloft like a modern Prometheus.

Jean de Roncourt’s “Lanceur de Lance,” 1930s
Jean de Roncourt’s works exude virility: his bronzes of hunters, wrestlers, and archers reveal every muscle in sharp definition, nude or scantily draped. Pierre Le Faguays, often working under pseudonyms like Fayral or Guerbe, produced vigorous male and female dancers alike; his Danseur Nu captures the twisting grace of a naked youth in motion. Even lesser-known sculptors like L. Valderi French contributed to this canon of heroic men, cast in bronze and spelter, embodying an age obsessed with strength and beauty.

Nudity and the Male Form

Pierre Le Faguays, “Three Athletes,” 1935
The nude male in Art Deco sculpture is strikingly different from the female nude of the same period. Where women are often allegorical or eroticized, men are athletic, disciplined, and powerful. Nudity was not scandal but symbol: the unclothed male body embodied health, modernity, and idealized masculinity. These weren’t portraits of individuals, but archetypes—youths who seemed to stride straight out of both the classical past and the Jazz Age future.

Two-Dimensional Visions

Demétre Haralamb Chiparus (1886-1947), 'Le Bendeur'

Art Deco depictions of men weren’t limited to bronze and stone. Painters, graphic artists, and muralists also took up the subject, often balancing sensuality with stylization. Tamara de Lempicka, best known for her cool, chic portraits of women, also painted striking male nudes, such as Nu Masculin (1929). In these canvases, bodies are sculptural and polished, more marble than flesh.

Jean Dupas, whose monumental panels adorned interiors of luxury liners, often depicted sailors, mythological heroes, and allegorical figures—sometimes draped, sometimes nude—his men elongated and stylized, their musculature arranged like architecture. In graphic art and advertising, artists such as Paul Colin infused male figures—whether jazz musicians, dancers, or athletes—with the same geometric vitality seen in sculpture.

Even in decorative arts, male forms appear: wall panels, book illustrations, and magazine covers showed sleek swimmers, runners, and workers, clothed or unclothed, embodying vigor and speed. The nude was celebrated not only in galleries but in the very fabric of modern life.

The Question of What’s Missing


“Nude Athlete,” by Maurice Guiraud Rivière, 1930

One detail that often strikes modern viewers is what is not shown. Many Art Deco male nudes either cover or minimize the penis. This wasn’t an accident—it was a deliberate choice shaped by several factors. The style drew heavily on classical precedents, where small, modest genitalia signaled refinement rather than vulgarity. Social propriety and marketability also mattered: a statuette with prominent genitals would not have graced many bourgeois mantelpieces. Moreover, the Art Deco aesthetic favored clean lines, streamlined geometry, and polished surfaces—the penis simply disrupted the ideal silhouette. And finally, there was the delicate matter of gender politics: a nude woman could be eroticized without scandal; a nude man, if too explicit, risked reading as homoerotic in a society uncomfortable with such implications.

“Nude Athlete,” by Maurice Guiraud Rivière, 1930
So while Art Deco exalted the male body, it often did so with strategic omissions. Muscles, movement, and idealized form took precedence over sexual detail. In this sense, the missing penis tells us as much about the cultural anxieties of the 1920s and 1930s as the stylized bodies tell us about its ideals of beauty and strength.

Wednesday, September 17, 2025

Pic of the Day

 

MRI

Today is finally MRI day, and I’m both relieved and a little anxious. I had to be up earlier than usual this morning since my appointment at the hospital was at 6 a.m. Isabella didn’t seem to mind me stirring around at that hour—she was just happy to have breakfast a bit earlier. For weeks now my back has been bothering me, and while I’ve tried to push through the pain, it’s clear something isn’t right. Hopefully, the MRI will give me some answers and a clearer path forward. It’s one of those things where just knowing what’s going on will be a huge relief in itself.

Since I have the whole day off, I decided to make the most of it and head up to Burlington afterward. There are a few shoe stores there that carry some really nice options, and I’ve been needing a good pair of shoes for a while. It feels like a bit of a treat to mix something necessary with something enjoyable. After all, if I’m going to be dealing with back issues, I might as well do it in style with a comfortable (and hopefully sharp-looking) new pair of shoes.

Tuesday, September 16, 2025

Pic of the Day

 

Freedom and Truth

Freedom and Truth

By Margaret Fuller

To a Friend.

The shrine is vowed to freedom, but, my friend,

Freedom is but a means to gain an end.

Freedom should build the temple, but the shrine

Be consecrate to thought still more divine.

The human bliss which angel hopes foresaw

Is liberty to comprehend the law.

Give, then, thy book a larger scope and frame,

Comprising means and end in Truth’s great name.

 

 

About the Poem

Margaret Fuller’s poem Freedom and Truth offers a meditation on what freedom really means. She insists that freedom is not an end in itself, but a means to something higher — to truth, to comprehension of moral law, to the divine. Freedom without truth, she suggests, is an empty shrine: a structure without a god inside. For her, true human happiness comes from using liberty not merely for self-indulgence, but to understand and live within universal truths.

 

Reading Fuller’s lines, I couldn’t help but think of the chorus of Kris Kristofferson’s “Me and Bobby McGee” (made immortal by Janis Joplin):

 “Freedom is just another word for nothin’ left to lose…

And feelin’ good was easy, Lord, when he sang the blues.”

Though written more than a century later, these lyrics capture a strikingly similar tension. For Kristofferson and Joplin, freedom stripped of attachments is both exhilarating and hollow. It means release, but also loss. Like Fuller, the song suggests that freedom alone is not enough; its meaning is found when it leads to something more — in this case, authentic connection, soulful music, and the raw honesty of experience.

 

This resonates deeply with the American Transcendentalist movement, of which Fuller was a central voice. Ralph Waldo Emerson once wrote, “For what avail the plough or sail, or land or life, if freedom fail?” — reminding us that liberty matters only in so far as it sustains deeper purposes. Henry David Thoreau sharpened the point in Walden: “Disobedience is the true foundation of liberty. The obedient must be slaves.” Both Emerson and Thoreau, like Fuller, argued that freedom was valuable only when it brought us closer to truth, authenticity, and the divine.

 

And yet, we see in our own age how this lesson is often forgotten. Freedom of speech, one of the most cherished liberties, is frequently used as a cover for spreading hatred, division, and outright lies. But freedom of speech divorced from truth is no freedom at all — it becomes the empty shrine Fuller warned against, a hollow liberty that erodes rather than sustains the human spirit.

 

Fuller’s 19th-century vision, Kristofferson’s 20th-century lyric, and our 21st-century struggles meet on common ground. All remind us that freedom cannot be idolized on its own. Whether in the pursuit of higher laws, in the fleeting transcendence of music and love, or in defending speech that is rooted in truth and justice, freedom gains its true meaning only when it opens into truth.

 

May we never forget that freedom without truth is a shell. Truth gives freedom its soul.


 

About the Poet

Margaret Fuller (1810–1850) was one of the great voices of the American Transcendentalist movement, though her life and legacy often stand in the shadow of Emerson and Thoreau. I’ve always been inspired by the Transcendentalists, but I find myself especially drawn to Fuller — not only her writings but also the way she lived her life, ahead of her time and unwilling to conform to society’s expectations.

 

Fuller was the first editor of The Dial, the Transcendentalist journal, and the author of Woman in the Nineteenth Century (1845), one of the earliest works of American feminism. In that book she declared, “Let every woman, who has once begun to think, examine herself.” That call to self-examination and truth resonates as much today as it did in her century. She also wrote, “Very early, I knew that the only object in life was to grow.” For Fuller, freedom was always tied to growth, to becoming more fully human, more fully alive.

 

Her life took her far beyond Concord. I’ve long had a fascination with American expatriates of the 19th century, and Fuller became one herself. In 1846, she traveled to Europe as a foreign correspondent for the New York Tribune. It was there that she found herself drawn into the currents of Italian nationalism — what would later grow into the Risorgimento, the movement for Italian unification.

 

Fuller fell in love with Giovanni Ossoli, a young Italian revolutionary, and bore his child. Their relationship had to be kept secret, both because of politics and because of society’s judgment. At one point she even entrusted her baby to the care of another family, only to find he was treated poorly — a decision that haunted her. Eventually, Fuller, Ossoli, and their child decided to leave Italy for America, carrying with them her manuscript history of the Roman Republic.

 

Tragically, they never reached American shores. In July 1850, their ship struck a storm and sank off Fire Island, just short of New York Harbor. Fuller, her husband, and her child all drowned. Their bodies were recovered, but her manuscript — the culmination of years of thought and observation — was lost forever.

 

Her life was brief and often tragic, yet Margaret Fuller remains one of the most remarkable American thinkers of the 19th century. She lived with passion, intellect, and conviction, and her words — as in Freedom and Truth — continue to remind us that liberty without truth is empty.

Monday, September 15, 2025

Pic of the Day

Mondays and Milestones

It was a busy weekend, and it’s shaping up to be a busy week ahead. Saturday was spent watching college football (Roll Tide!), and yesterday I went clothes shopping. That may not sound like much, but for me, it was a little milestone.

I haven’t really talked about this here, but I’ve lost some weight. My clothes just don’t fit the same anymore, and shopping has become a necessity. I don’t often bring up my weight because in the past it has sometimes led to rude comments or unsolicited advice. The truth is, I’ve struggled with my weight my whole life. Now, for the first time, I’m no longer overweight. I still have a way to go before I’m fully happy with my body, and with my back issues, I haven’t been able to get to the gym the way I’d like. Hopefully, that will change soon.

Yesterday’s shopping trip also meant a lot of walking—something I haven’t been able to do in months. By the time I got home, my body was completely exhausted. I used to love shopping, and if I only need to go to one store, I still enjoy it some. But going to half a dozen crowded stores is more than I can handle these days. Still, it was worth it to find clothes that fit and look nice for the events ahead.

As for this week, today is just a regular Monday at work—and Mondays are never fun. The bigger push comes later in the week with events Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. That’s part of why I needed those new clothes. I like to dress nicely anyway, but as the public face of the museum, I feel like it’s even more important to look put-together. First impressions matter, and I want to give a good one not just for myself, but for the museum as well.

It’s also a big week for my back. On Wednesday, I go in for an MRI of my lower back. I’ve been feeling much improved, so I’m hoping that the prognosis will be good. Between that and the long hours later in the week, it’s going to be a full schedule. Thankfully, I have tomorrow off as a bit of breathing room.

Here’s to a good week ahead—for all of us.


The picture above is not me, but like him I also need some new shoes—though that might not happen this week.

Sunday, September 14, 2025

Pic of the Day

One Body, One Family

“For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others.” 
— Romans 12:4–5
“So now you are no longer strangers and foreigners. You are citizens along with all of God’s holy people. You are members of God’s family.” 
— Ephesians 2:19


One of the hardest things about being LGBTQ+ is that so many of us have been made to feel like outsiders. Sometimes it’s been in our families, sometimes in our communities, and too often in our churches. That kind of rejection leaves scars. But when I read passages like these, I’m reminded that God doesn’t see us as strangers, outsiders, or “less than.” God sees us as part of the body, part of the family.

Romans 12 reminds us that the church is like a body—different members, different roles, but all working together. No part is useless, no part can say, “I don’t need you.” That means you, just as you are, bring something vital to the body of Christ. And Ephesians takes it a step further: we’re not just loosely connected, we’re family. Full citizens of God’s household. Not guests. Not outsiders. Family.

This is Christianity’s greatest strength—that people of every background, identity, and story are drawn together by God’s love into one body, one family. When LGBTQ+ people are excluded, that strength is weakened, because the body is not whole. Our gifts, our voices, our joy, and even our struggles are part of what makes the body of Christ stronger, more compassionate, and more complete.

That’s powerful when you’ve ever been told otherwise. 1 John 3:1 tells us, “See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!” It doesn’t say some of us. It doesn’t say only the ones who fit a certain mold. It says we are God’s children, and that includes LGBTQ+ folks too.

Galatians 3:28 reminds us that all the old dividing lines—Jew or Gentile, slave or free, male or female—don’t hold sway in Christ. “You are all one in Christ Jesus.” For us today, that verse could just as easily say: gay or straight, trans or cis, single or married—you are all one in Christ Jesus.

And here’s the other side of it: when one of us hurts, the whole body hurts. 1 Corinthians 12:26 says, “If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it.” So when LGBTQ+ people are rejected or mistreated, it isn’t just our pain—it’s the church’s pain. And when we live openly, joyfully, and authentically in God’s love, that joy is a gift that strengthens the whole body.

The Bible is also full of reminders that God takes what the world rejects and turns it into something essential. Psalm 118:22 says: “The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.” And Jesus echoed this in Matthew 21:42: “Have you never read in the Scriptures: ‘The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; the Lord has done this, and it is marvelous in our eyes’?” For anyone who’s ever felt pushed aside, those verses are a lifeline. What others reject, God makes foundational.

And so we’re called to do the same. Romans 15:7 tells us, “Welcome one another, therefore, just as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God.” That’s not a half-hearted welcome, not a “you can sit here, but stay quiet.” It’s a full, Christlike welcome that says: you belong, you matter, and we’re not whole without you.

Where do you most need to hear the reminder that you belong today? What unique gift or story do you bring that helps the body of Christ be more whole?

Saturday, September 13, 2025

Pic of the Day

Moment of Zen: Tanlines

There’s just something about tanlines—those sharp contrasts etched by a summer of sun. Now that summer is over, the lines remain, like a secret reminder of long days, warm nights, and skin that still carries the memory of light. Sometimes what’s hidden makes the revealed all the more irresistible.

Friday, September 12, 2025

Pic of the Day

 


TGIWFHF*

 

It’s finally Friday, and I couldn’t be more thankful. Not only is it the end of the week, but it’s also my work from home day. That makes such a difference. No commute, no rushing out the door, no bracing myself for whatever mood my boss might be in. Instead, I can ease into the day with a little less stress, work from the comfort of home, and hopefully keep my migraine at bay. After the week I’ve had, that feels like a blessing.

I always look forward to Fridays, but this one feels especially good because I know what’s coming up next week. The first half should 🤞be relatively calm—Monday is shaping up to be quiet, and Tuesday I’m off. But Wednesday brings my MRI for my back, which I’m both anxious about and ready to get over with. Then the second half of the week kicks into high gear. Thursday through Saturday I’ll be working and participating in events for the museum. It’s going to be a lot to juggle, and I already know it’s going to take a lot out of me.

That’s why today feels even more important. I need this chance to breathe, to regroup, and to prepare myself for what’s ahead. Fridays at home are a reminder that little breaks like this can make a world of difference when life gets hectic. I’ll take the peace while I can get it.

I hope everyone has a great Friday and an even better weekend.


* Thank God It’s Work From Home Friday 


I almost forgot my Isabella Pic of the Week. I took this right after I wrote today’s post. She will likely be this way for at least 2-3 hours before she stretches, rotates a quarter turn, and goes back to sleep.