There is grace to be found in a winter sunrise.
The sun glinting off the frozen ground,
fingerlike rays winding through barren branches,
beams bending, twisting, never breaking,
illuminating single snowflakes,
winking in the wind,
balancing on its edge, sharp as a razor.

The wind which whips harder than the soft snow dare betray.

This morning light is faint,
but there is light.
These cold days are short,
but they grow longer.

Winter is come,
but the sun finds strength yet.



Friends, it is with utmost grief that I come here briefly today.

My beloved, wonderful, wicked, brilliant grandfather, Paul Sally Jr., has passed.
He was an amazing soul, a fearsome professor, a legend, the “Math Pirate,” but most of all, he was just my grandpa, my dad’s dad.

A man to be looked up at, to admire, to be sure, but also a man to give fist bumps, at whom to shout “I’m over here, Grandpa!”

I am so grateful to have had the chance to study at the University of Chicago while he was there.
It was truly a privilege.
It was truly an honor to be his granddaughter.


Yo, Sally: rest easy.
You are much loved and sorely missed.


Please excuse my coming absence from this creative space.