I’m sure I am not the only person who has turned to underwear for solace while grieving. The day after my mother died, on a frigid January day in Seattle, I desperately dug through Mom’s closet to find her wool socks and long-johns. I had hurriedly arrived from Honolulu and shivered uncontrollably. My other siblings…

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I give regular tours at a contemporary art museum. One day when I enter the museum, I hear the dreadful sound of a car alarm coming from a back gallery. It sound like the classic one that came out twenty years ago or so.  You would recognize it instantly: a screeching sound track alternates every…

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