The only rug we had was on the wall—
linoleum was what my mother knew—
a woodsy scene, green trees, a waterfall,
the wool a mane I ran my fingers through.
In this worsted forest lit by lantern light,
I’d conjure a horse, a wicked witch, a gnome,
waiting for me, bespectacled Snow White
or lonely Gretel searching for a home.
But on the back, flat squares, the opposite
of rug, more punch card code or scratchy map
of where I was. I liked the front. I’d sit,
hand on the yarn, a stuffed bear in my lap,
sticking slightly to the Naugahyde couch,
when I needed something soft to touch.
Dear Reader,
Can I be direct with you?
War abroad. Socialists on the rise. AI upending human life. Endless uproar online. The modern attention economy doesn’t want readers — it wants users enslaved to the tyranny of the present.
First Things is the antidote: literary excellence, timeless truths, and a fixed point of reference in a culture that has lost its bearings.
But we can’t do it without readers like you.
Our goal: Raise $150,000 by November 1 to sustain First Things in the year ahead.
Your gift anchors readers in the permanent things.
Make your Fall Campaign gift now using the button below.
If you have any questions or would like more information, please contact Giovanni Del Piero, Director of the Editor’s Circle, at gdelpiero@firstthings.com or 212-627-1985.
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