Days of AweWhat is this life if not an accumulation of days, days of doubt, days of splendor, days of awe--days that leave us breathless with wonder, stupefied with uncertainty, saturated with gratitude. In these brief, incisive essays on life in the opening years of the 21st century, novelist and children's author Steven Schnur reflects upon what it means to be human in a world fast losing touch with its humanity, discovering even in the midst of terrorism and war countless reasons to celebrate and rejoice. With wry wit, a keen ear for the music of language, and a sharp eye for nature's inestimable gifts, the author focuses his attentions on the raw material of daily life--the change of seasons, the growth of children, the morning headlines, the imminence of death--artfully awakening his readers to the minor miracles that underlie even the most quotidian events and the powerful feelings they evoke. Spend a moment in the company of these deft meditations on the richness of the human spirit and you will come away delighted, enlightened, and renewed. Days of Awe is nothing short of awe-inspiring. |
Contents
Introduction | |
Arrested by the Light | |
Oath of Allegiance | |
Thirgg Years Later | |
A Lasting Hurt | |
The Poetry ot Simple Gestures | |
Suddenly an Old | |
Firefighter | |
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Acrostic afternoon American arms asked Baghdad become began briefly brother child childhood climb color conflict cucumbers dance dark daughter delight didn’t discovered door emotional eyes face father feel felt field fifteen fifty fill filling final finally find fingers fire first five flag flames flashing flood floor friends grass hands heart high school hope Iraq Iraqi Kaddish lawn leaves life’s light lives looking marijuana memory menorah minutes morning mother mourning muted music nation neighbors never night office officials once parents passed perhaps Phony War realized reflection sacrifice seemed September 11 shadows shamash Shock and Awe significance silence simply sister sleep smile snow snow blower spring squirrels stood street sudden suddenly summer teenage terrorism thought trees turned twenty-five victims voice walk wasn’t watching weeks window wonder World Trade Center young