In a sprawling neighborhood in the south of Bogotá, among the unfinished brick homes of tens of thousands of Colombia’s poorest, 15 teenagers lounge on the floor of a brightly painted room. Electronic music chugs from a laptop in the corner while they work quietly, sketching flowers and trees on oversized paper.

The world was a different place in 1976 when Carl Jensen, a professor of communications at Sonoma State University, founded Project Censored to highlight important national news stories that were underreported or outright ignored by the mainstream press. Back then, there were few good alternatives to television networks or major newspapers and magazines, and stories omitted from those channels usually escaped public notice. There was no such thing as Google News, no one had ever heard of a blog, and the word “twitter” was associated with birds or gossip.

The Saturday of Labor Day weekend was sublime. Clear blue skies, a gentle breeze and songbirds’ lazy trills provided an exuberant farewell to summer. It was the kind of day that begged for picnics, walks by the river, Frisbee, freeze tag, naps in the grass—the kind of day that should have filled every last park with shrieking kids competing desperately for a turn on the slide.

This week marks the ninth anniversary of 9.11. In that time, the focus of America’s military efforts has moved from Afghanistan to Iraq—a war whose “end” President Barack Obama announced last week—and now back to Afghanistan.

After a soaking monsoon rainstorm, the Rio Grande through Albuquerque runs red. The next morning, as its waters again recede, spadefoot toads the size of quarters scamper atop the mud. Tiny fish wiggle into pools pressed by the river into the banks, and awkwardly-aloft ducks crash-land into the water. For a few hours, it’s easy to imagine this is a natural river, dependent only upon storm clouds and seasons for its ebbs and flows.

Santa Fe’s history as a center for arts and culture imbues the city with quirky character, bucket-loads of charm and an internationally recognized élan all its own. But the arts also are big business. So it’s a big deal when three major exhibitors of contemporary art bring new directors on board as new guardians of the avant-garde.

At noon on July 4, as America celebrated its freedom, armed officers of the state escorted Eric Raymond Buckley into the Santa Fe County Adult Detention Facility. The easygoing 36-year-old acupuncturist wasn’t in jail because he’d shot, stabbed or driven drunk. He hadn’t run a red light or raised his voice. He hadn’t even gotten caught sneaking a handful of granola from the bins at Whole Foods.

Imagine a school where students and faculty are excited to show up; where everywhere you look, creativity flows; where students compose songs on the guitar between classes; and where teachers find ways to teach history through music and English through art.

Santa Fe architect Conrad Skinner was 19 years old when he heard Paolo Soleri, the Italian-born architect, speak at an exhibit in Washington, DC. “He hit the world of architecture like a tsunami, this little guy,” Skinner says with a laugh.

Anyone expecting an apologist tone from Why We Hate the Oil Companies will be disappointed. Author John Hofmeister, the former president of Shell Oil Co., doesn’t offer many mea culpas in his “straight talk” about Americans’ relationship to oil companies and energy policies. But he does deliver, as promised, an “insider” view from his time within what is perhaps the country’s most vilified industry.