To Market, to Market!

There are twenty farmers markets within ten miles of the Johns Hopkins Hospital, including one on the JHH campus on Thursday afternoons, but if you ask your friends to hit "the famers market this weekend", most people would think of the Sunday farmers market right under I-83 where it ends in downtown Baltimore. Since it's open from 7 am to noon, the first stop for this writer is Zeke's coffee, a local Baltimore roastery wtih a huge line that nevertheless moves quickly. Apples, peppers, giant spring onions, lettuce, mustard greens, tomatoes, basil and eggplant were next, but it might as well have been chicken, beef, rack of lamb or any of a huge variety of prepared foods - portobello sandwich

Scholarship in Service to the Community

Baltimore had me at “hello,” literally. I walked out of the airport, shocked I had to remove my winter coat to adjust to the 50 degree November weather, a stark change from the cold and snowy environment I just departed. The night before my Hopkins interview, a close friend from med school took me out for my first oysters, and with that Baltimore stole my heart. Yet although these differences from my hometown first attracted me to this city, I find its similarities to upstate New York most endearing. Just like home, Baltimore is a post-industrial city with a rich history and culture, as well as kind, hard-working residents that struggle to maintain their livelihood in a city affected by

To Everything There Is a Season...

Ecclesiastes is a beautiful book: the seasons turn, rivers flow into oceans, the earth remains. Leaving aside the impending ecological Armageddon, this is a reassuring message. There are seasons; things are meant to change. And there is a pattern and predictability to the flux. That was fine, until the Japanese maple died. It was a beautiful tree, not especially majestic in its size or reach, but it had an old soul - or at least I liked to think so, given its finely gnarled bark, its delicate, razor sharp leaves assuming their deep red as the seasons turned. I grieved for that tree, truly: denial first - I had to be told gently at first but then firmly that it was definitely gone; then I bar

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