Author Archives: Jean Carroll Nolan

Jean Carroll Nolan lives in Seaside, California,(just north of Monterey) with her husband of 50 years, half a dozen guitars, and too many books for the bookcases. She enjoys music, reading, writing poetry, talking with friends, and watching old films. She is cared for by two dogs, Sonny, a 90-pound bully dog, and Mojo, a 14- pound chihuahua mix. (The chihuahua, of course, believes himself to be larger than his enormous younger brother.) Nolan's reading tastes are eclectic, ranging from sociology to murder mysteries, royal biographies, and military history. She considers herself a liberal and a patriot, and sees no dichotomy there. She supports animal rescue projects and facilities (race horses and pit bulls, in particular), and believes courtesy and kindness have power to reshape the world. She adores her two adult children, her daughter- and son-in-law, and is desperately in love with her grandchildren, Brody and Sarah, and her grand dogs, Wayne and Jada. She enjoys finding and enjoying the miraculous in everyday life, a trait she first discovered in the subway stations of Chicago, observing former field mice who, amazingly, not only survived but thrived on the track bed below the trains. (Author Photos: John Nolan.)

Light & Death

“Autumn has been both cruel and kind to me, over the years. Events as disparate as horse races, baseball campaigns and the births of children have been disastrous and heartbreaking or wondrous and full of delight. Life just happens, you know, a personal drama in which one is at once the protagonist and the audience. […]

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Shopping for Shoes with My Mother (& Stargazing)

“That is how I remember us, styling away, off to where Miss Nightingale, clad in her long, dark woolen skirts—(it was always after Labor Day that I saw her)—and twin sets, brandished her metal foot-measuring device as a knight might his shield on the broad field of beige-carpeted showroom. And, after I had nodded mendaciously, […]

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Stargazing (& Shopping for Shoes) with My Mother

“That is how I remember us, styling away, off to where Miss Nightingale, clad in her long, dark woolen skirts—(it was always after Labor Day that I saw her)—and twin sets, brandished her metal foot-measuring device as a knight might his shield on the broad field of beige-carpeted showroom. And, after I had nodded mendaciously, […]

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