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- Linda Gregg, the poet, died a few days ago. I met her once at an arts colony where I was working. Instead of having her sit inside and read pages, I took her on a walk. We went up the hill and into the woods where we got lost. We sat in a ravine, with broken black trees and white water flowing, and we each had a cigarette. Or maybe we shared one. People still sneaked cigarettes back then. She told me how she loved a man — not Jack Gilbert anymore. Jack Gilbert was in her youth, when they lived, famously, on a Greek island. This other man was also a poet, but married to another. I too had had a great love, who had been married to another. We compared notes. She told me that no one had ever loved her the way this man had loved her, that she had been astonished at how he much he loved her, and the words he had said to her. Words she couldn’t get over. Or chose not to get over, there in the ravine in Vermont with her long famous ginger-red hair and her beauty and her seriousness. Linda was a woman, I thought, who knew how to live. She had given herself to words and to beauty. She was a also a horse rider, I believe, in California where she grew up. She is the kind of person you picture as always on that horse. She led a life few dare to these days. A life of devotion. R.I.P Linda Gregg (September 9, 1942 – March 19, 2019)
- Athens in April
- Good to Be Liked
- Matthew
- Me and Evan Thomas — What is Love?
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Linda Gregg, the poet, died a few days ago. I met her once at an arts colony where I was working. Instead of having her sit inside and read pages, I took her on a walk. We went up the hill and into the woods where we got lost. We sat in a ravine, with broken black trees and white water flowing, and we each had a cigarette. Or maybe we shared one. People still sneaked cigarettes back then. She told me how she loved a man — not Jack Gilbert anymore. Jack Gilbert was in her youth, when they lived, famously, on a Greek island. This other man was also a poet, but married to another. I too had had a great love, who had been married to another. We compared notes. She told me that no one had ever loved her the way this man had loved her, that she had been astonished at how he much he loved her, and the words he had said to her. Words she couldn’t get over. Or chose not to get over, there in the ravine in Vermont with her long famous ginger-red hair and her beauty and her seriousness. Linda was a woman, I thought, who knew how to live. She had given herself to words and to beauty. She was a also a horse rider, I believe, in California where she grew up. She is the kind of person you picture as always on that horse. She led a life few dare to these days. A life of devotion. R.I.P Linda Gregg (September 9, 1942 – March 19, 2019)
By Linda Gregg:The PrecisionThere is a modesty in nature. In the smallof it and in the strongest. The leaf movesjust the amount the breeze indicatesand nothing more. In the power of lust, too,there can be a quiet and clarity, a … Continue reading
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Athens in April
“The Shipping Tycoon,” a story from 52 Men about my excursions with the late yachting magnate risen from donut shops in Greece, will appear in an exhibit by Creative Process at the Byzantine Museum in Athens, beginning in April 2019. … Continue reading
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Me and Evan Thomas — What is Love?
It’s been a struggle watching the #MeToo women tell their stories. I have had to keep asking myself if I was a victim when I fell in love, at 18, with Evan Thomas, an older colleague at TIME. I underwent, … Continue reading
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Tagged #MeToo, Evan Thomas, Intern, Louise Wareham & Evan Thomas, Monica Lewinsky, TIME
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Childhood Living — it’s easy to do
All of us find some beauty, some pleasure or allegiance in childhood to help us endure. For me, I found it in the natural world — in a childhood in New Zealand and the South Pacific, seeing Mt Fuji and … Continue reading
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An Interview with the Creative Process
Long before the Me Too movement, you’ve been writing books and coming of age stories [Since You Ask, Miss Me a Lot of] about survivors of assault, abuses of power. The Creative Process Exhibition was launched at the Sorbonne and … Continue reading
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Charles McGill
The wilderness, we all pass through it. I saw it in Charles’ eyes just last week. May we realize that the extremes we go through are the test of our lives, and that in the most painful we discover who … Continue reading
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My Tin House piece on E.L. Grant Watson, living in the outback.
Lost & Found: Louise Wareham Leonard on E. L. Grant Watson
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Pictures of Lolita, Gaitskill and me
What do you think of when you think of Lolita? The answer is not always your fault. Publishers want to sell copies and sex sells, or can. But Lolita, Lolita. I have been reading Mary Gaitskill’s essays, and in her essay … Continue reading
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