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
Our family hasn’t been to church in person since mid-March. This is mostly about COVID, but partly about me and my issues. Nothing makes me want to quit church forever like a presidential election year. 2020 is a presidential election year on a high-octane cocktail of speed and steroids, and not going this year has… Continue reading Goin’ to the Chapel
My current decorating strategy, as anyone who has visited the house knows, is just to hang on until the children move out, and then start over. I don't see much point in buying nice furniture that is going to suffer various protracted indignities, and I gave up on the living room carpet long ago. But… Continue reading Pillows