Remembering Michael Steinberg (1940–2019)
December 19, 2019Essay by Martha Nichols
He loved self-reflection—the way memory, personal changes over time, and reality can come together to conjure a place far beyond documentation.
He loved self-reflection—the way memory, personal changes over time, and reality can come together to conjure a place far beyond documentation.
Tattoos are the promises we make to ourselves.
It’s been so long that laugh tracks seem fresh again.
It’s not the spasms or pain I remember, only the damp, hot, itchy, smelly strips of wool.
The Kumbh Mela never comes to Pittsburgh: no one mistakes the Allegheny for the Ganges.
We didn’t realize the degree to which irrigation saturated our lives until our first trip to the Oregon coast.
What had started as an attempt at witty improv had grown strange, weird and oddly gregarious.