Category Archives: Anthology

My collected writings and those of family members.

Ear Fatigue Syndrome and Recovery

Posted on August 25, 2018 by JMN

The wireless speakers strewn about The Shed burble from their niches most of the day. Some days I think I’ve divined the secret of much jazz that I listen to: Play only the notes that are not hummable. I say … Continue reading →

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“Odor of Sanctity”

Posted on August 24, 2018 by JMN

Odor of Sanctity James Mansfield Nichols The body is detritus wrested free From the last-minute clutch of agony. The mortal launchpad of a soul now lies Charred by the life’s fierce burn, the prey of flies. The faithful fight for … Continue reading →

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“A Prayer for My Daughter” (3)

Posted on August 23, 2018 by JMN

I’m nervous if a post of mine runs longer than a couple of scrolls, so I’m parceling the translation now into one stanza at a time until the end. I realize that I run the risk of confining myself to … Continue reading →

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“A Prayer for My Daughter” (2)

Posted on August 22, 2018 by JMN

“A Prayer for My Daughter” by W. B. Yeats (Spanish translation by James Mansfield Nichols) https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/14635/a-prayer-for-my-daughter A Prayer for My Daughter (2) Once more the storm is howling, and half hid Under this cradle-hood and coverlid My child sleeps on. … Continue reading →

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“A Prayer for my Daughter” (1)

Posted on August 22, 2018 by JMN

“A Prayer for My Daughter” by W. B. Yeats (Spanish translation by James Mansfield Nichols) https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/14635/a-prayer-for-my-daughter Celebrating recent renewal of contact with my long-lost daughter raised in Spain, I undertake this translation into Spanish of Yeats’s “Prayer for My Daughter.” … Continue reading →

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Frozen Versus Canned

Posted on August 21, 2018 by JMN

Hollie Jean Burmeister makes such a to-do over her old-fashioned frozen pies. I don’t know what the big fuss is. The canned pies at Mustang Mart cost ninety-eight cents apiece, half of what the frozen ones do. The Kandi-Whip gets … Continue reading →

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On V.S. Naipaul

Posted on August 16, 2018 by JMN

He never looked away. I was with him in Wiltshire soon after my father, the governor of Punjab in Pakistan, was assassinated. I had been estranged from my father and was not sure how to mourn him. Mr. Naipaul, with … Continue reading →

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It seems as if…

Posted on August 14, 2018 by JMN

It seems as if I had to divest myself of my own library before I could start reading any of it. The sheer weight of unread books can neutralize a person. I don’t know if I ever told you the … Continue reading →

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Stoicism (I got past the gloom. Happy now. This is about reading, not suicide.)

Posted on August 13, 2018 by JMN

[Domestic strife can cause one to seek comfort in odd places. During a time of gloom and stress I found relief by delving into some writings about the Stoics. I was retail advertising manager for the local newspaper, a highly … Continue reading →

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The Art of Typing

Posted on August 13, 2018 by JMN

[Frank Bruni and I share an alma mater — UNC-Chapel Hill. I enjoy his columns. His account of learning touch typing at age 17 mirrors my own experience. One semester of typing class in the tenth grade has served me … Continue reading →

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