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From: Spokane Public Radio
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Cheryl-Anne Millsap N-P-R-E-M testimonial
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Nellie McKay 'You're Good To Us'
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Short song with public radio testimonial from performer Nellie McKay.
Winter: Where the Wild Rivers Run ~ Cheryl-Anne Millsap
(04:00)
From: Spokane Public Radio
We crossed the Clark Fork River on our way out of Missoula, Montana. The sun was just coming up and the sky along the horizon was fading, changing from a deep indigo to ...
Riding the Empire Builder | Cheryl-Anne Millsap
(04:00)
From: Spokane Public Radio
The train going east leaves Spokane just after 1 a.m. and winds its way behind downtown buildings and along the edge of the city. The scene from my wide window is a view I ...
Winter in Glacier National Park | Cheryl-Anne Millsap
(04:08)
From: Spokane Public Radio
We drove into the west entrance of Glacier National Park late in the clear February morning and our tires crunched into the frozen crust of last week’s snowfall. The cold, ...
Cheryl-Anne Millsap: Valentine's Day
(04:00)
From: Spokane Public Radio
The author reminds her loved ones that the valentines keep coming all year long.
Cheryl-Anne Millsap: The Carol of the Bells
(04:01)
From: Spokane Public Radio
The Salvation Army bell ringer, bundled up to stay warm in weather that has turned brutal overnight, stands just beside the front door of the busy store. Ringing the bell, ...
Cheryl-Anne Millsap: Eyes Wide Open
(03:25)
From: Spokane Public Radio
A lot goes on in the darkest part of the night. You miss it if you’re sleeping.
Related Pieces
Piece Description
At any given moment people everywhere – the stranger in the car next to ours or the person standing silently in the elevator; co-workers in cubicles down the hall or even the beloved face on the other side of the bed – are struggling. And we don't recognize it.
Transcript
Cheryl-Anne Millsap
Staff writer
The Spokesman-Review
October 24, 2005
While my car idled at a red light I was aware, peripherally, of the woman sitting on the bench on the corner, waiting for the bus. But I had other things on my mind and I didn't even glance at her until something, a movement, got my attention.
She appeared to be in her mid-30s or early 40s. She was dressed for work in slacks and a blouse and she carried a purse and a briefcase.
As she waited she sat slumped and dejected, as still as a statue, feet and knees together, staring straight ahead with no expression on her face.
Tears, one right after another, poured down her cheeks. What had caught my eye was the movement of her hands, when once, twice and then a third time, she reached up to wipe them away.
The woman wept the way a stone weeps; drawing moisture from some deep secret source...
Read the full transcript
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