Together - a Column by Mark Harrington

On Oct. 4, I turned 66. The 4th is also the feast day of St. Francis of Assisi. For most of my life, I also shared it with my Aunt Kay. As a boy in Malden, Massachusetts, I thought that was a fine piece of luck. A saint who…

Recently, I thought I’d try my hand at poetry. Here is my first masterpiece: A teacher from Malden named Mark saw double from dawn until dark. Not a cousin was missed. Two Aunt Mildreds were kissed. And he greeted two dogs when one barked. It’s not quite Frost…

A few weeks ago I cut my left hand while chopping food. I gave the wound little thought. It became infected, and, rather stupidly, I ignored it, as if a problem might go away if I refused to look at it. I knew better. People living with myasthenia gravis…

“Take therefore no thought for the morrow, for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.” — Matthew 6:34 I’ve decided to print this verse on a small card and tape it to my refrigerator, my bathroom mirror, and possibly…

For more than 30 years, I stood in front of classrooms in two states, teaching history. I knew how to read a room and pace a lesson while making the Missouri Compromise seem worth the attention of high schoolers. Then myasthenia gravis (MG) permanently changed my schedule without permission.

My mother was not a quilter. In 87 years, I don’t think she ever gave quilts a thought. It wasn’t until I was an adult living in the South that I became aware of the craft’s popularity. I learned about quilting weekends, magazines, stores, group chats, and more. I saw…

Every eight weeks, when I sit in an infusion chair, I can’t help but think of the small, patient labor that had to happen before the medication Ultomiris (ravulizumab-cwvz) ever found my veins. Myasthenia gravis (MG) doesn’t care much about history, but I do, and Ultomiris has one worth…

I have an unusual and slightly weird affection for old-time hymns. Something in me responds to the great hymns that have endured for thousands of years, such as “Sub Tuum Praesidium,” one of the oldest known hymns in Christianity. I feel a physical reaction to them. I also…

Texas in July is rough. By 9 a.m., the light is blinding and the heat is oppressive. The grass has given up and gone the color of straw. Cicadas saw away at the heat. You move from one air-conditioned location to another. The spaces in between are brutal reminders that…

It’s sweltering here in Texas. The air quality is abysmal, and a sense of “blah” seems to be everywhere. For somebody like me living with myasthenia gravis (MG), daily life is significantly more difficult this time of year. I’m forced to be semi-monastic, only crawling out of my lair,…