ESSAY: Leaving The Treehouse

ESSAY: Leaving The Treehouse

By Tom Robotham For the last few weeks, I’ve been looking for a new apartment. It’s not that I’m unhappy with my current place. Not by a long shot. For 17 years, it has served me well. In the afternoons, on clear days, the living room is bathed in sunlight filtered by...
ESSAY: Bites of the Big Apple

ESSAY: Bites of the Big Apple

Words & Photo by Tom Robotham One can’t paint New York as it is, but rather as it is felt. – Georgia O’Keeffe   Last month in this space, I wrote about what I call the resonance of place: the vibrations in your very soul that you feel at the mere...
ESSAY: Leaving The Treehouse

ESSAY: On Television

  By Tom Robotham As an instructor of media studies, I spend a lot of time thinking about the ways in which various mass media affect our lives. I’m struck, especially, by the fact that today’s children can barely imagine what life was like before the advent of...
ESSAY: Leaving The Treehouse

ESSAY: The Things I Carry

When my mom died, in 2015, I was faced with a decision—or rather, a multitude of decisions: what to retrieve from her house—my childhood home—and what to leave behind. Some decisions were relatively easy. I wished I could take her piano, which she taught me to play...
ESSAY: Leaving The Treehouse

ESSAY: Powerless

  By Tom Robotham On the morning of September 30, when hurricane Ian started to make its presence felt in Norfolk, I was watching CNN’s coverage of the devastation in Florida. Since my oldest friend lives in Fort Myers—ground zero, as it turned out—I was worried...