My father went to New York City in his twenties. He was the ninth and final child of a dirt-poor country butcher, the sixth child of the butcher's second wife. He'd grown up in rural Ohio, before the big roads were paved, when one side of State Route 585 was brick and the other side… Continue reading Here I Am
If there were a hall of fame for bodily noises, my sister would have pride of place in the Hall of Sneezing. Her sneezes come without warning, reach painful decibel levels, and have been responsible for more increased heart rate episodes in my life than any kind of romance. I am used to them, as… Continue reading Bless You!
I was wearing a flowered shirt when my sister told me that our mother was dying. I was definitely wearing something on the bottom half of my body — possibly a denim skirt — but only the shirt is there in my memory, vivid and bold. I’d never worn it before, and had hung it… Continue reading The Flowered Shirt
In my ongoing effort to return my shoulders to somewhere near my torso instead of up around my ears, I had scheduled an appointment with the massage therapist on a Friday at 4:00. It was perfect. I could leave work a little early, let the magic-handed lady apply her knuckles to the permaknots in my… Continue reading Ditched
I was having lunch with my college roommate, and she reached into her bag as we prepared to split the check. She pulled out a wallet and unzipped it, and I demanded to see it at once. It was buttery brown leather, with a zipper on three sides, and room for everything. Longer than usual… Continue reading The Best Gift