My March, in a list:
Running in a T-shirt and shorts for the first time this year. Writing with the windows open in my apartment.
Listening to my first audiobook in a decade. Being pleasantly surprised by a book gifted to me for Christmas.
Spending a night in Leavenworth. No, not that Leavenworth.
Congratulating one brother on his 21st birthday and West Coast summer internship. Pitching a Portland university to the other, who’s scouting colleges.
Booking a flight to New York City. Realizing round-trip flights to Alaska are only $200. Committing to backpacking there sometime soon.
Waking up before sunrise, driving to the mountains, and snowboarding before work.
Pledging to follow the Tigers more closely this season.
Saying goodbye to a friend who moved back east. Reading a book at a bar.
Waking up, embarrassingly, with a sore tricep after playing Rock Band the night before.
Reveling in photos and videos sent from friends back in our college town for a weekend.
Asking my parents to send another package from home, then lamenting that it cost $70 to ship. They paid the bill because they love me, mom says.
Of all the remarkable facts about Phelps, perhaps the most impressive is this: He’s not dead.
— California Sunday, on Thrasher editor Jake Phelps
“Sometimes when I’m alone with my baby, I think about killing him,” the teen said, holding the little boy. “He reminds me of the man who raped me.”
— The Washington Post, on United Nations “peacekeeper babies”
Kambuno gestures at his family crypt, which he says holds more than ten relatives. “My father is in here,” he says. “But I am here, so he is not really dead. My mother is in here, but I have daughters, so she is not really dead. My daughters have been exchanged for my mother. I have been exchanged for my father.”
— National Geographic, on the culture surrounding death in a small Indonesian town
She would offer water, offer a tissue. Let them talk, circling back later to gather more details. At the end of interviews with victims, she almost always told them they were brave.
— The New York Times, on a special-victims unit that investigates sexual assault
This portrait comes from Tampa Bay Times interviews of more than 40 people who know and or worked for Rubio, as well as documents and more than a decade of journalistic coverage of the senator. Rubio and his staff declined to be interviewed.
— Tampa Bay Times, on Marco Rubio
The sound of these baseballs hitting the 34-inch, 32-ounce Marucci bat is what I imagine lightning sounds like when it splits an oak. Inside this warehouse, where four-time National League batting champion Bill Madlock is one cage over employing a career’s worth of expertise to teach a couple of overindulged 10-year-olds to keep their weight back, it sounds like an entire forest is falling, one tree at a time.
— ESPN, on baseball player Bryce Harper
“I am tired,” Eddie Izzard said. “I am a very tired person.”
— The Wall Street Journal, on a British man trying to run 27 marathons in 27 days
I read Truman Capote’s “In Cold Blood” this month. It’s a masterful piece of reporting and storytelling. I’m disappointed I hadn’t read it sooner. I’m also reading Mitch Albom’s “The Magic Strings of Frankie Presto” and Jenny Lawson’s “Furiously Happy.”
You should listen to this Longform podcast with novelist and journalist Daniel Alarcón.
I recently reported about Bill Clinton campaigning for his wife in Vancouver, Washington, mechanical CPR machines, and a man who is accused of raping a woman who said she flagged him down for help fixing a flat bike tire.
As always, thanks for reading.