Web Originals

In the early ’70s, a rock opera’s title song dared to pose the question, “Jesus Christ, Superstar / Do you think you’re what they say you are?
“See the need.
Two summers ago, I went for my usual evening jog around our neighborhood.
Zoom, zoom, zoom—that was me and my little car.
It was my junior year of college, and I had hit bottom.
I remember, as a third grader, visiting my great-grandmother.
It was astonishing: the same newscast reported on fighting between two Palestinian factions, Hamas and Fatah, who at the time were in conflict not just with Israel but with each other.
I didn’t want to own my own business.
Last year, as I was hurrying down a steep staircase—in high heels—at church, I lost my footing, plunged to the landing, and hit the plaster wall, making a very large dent.
While hiking with my husband on a primitive trail in Arches National Park, Utah, I climbed a section of steep rock to bypass a deep puddle on the path.
When I discovered that my husband and I were expecting our third child, I cried, but they were not tears of joy.

Keeping crime in check

On the morning of April 25, 1996, I was in a taxi driving along the River Thames in London.