At the frog pond, circa 1985. “Go get the stink blown off of you,” Mom said, and Jeff, my younger brother, and I high-tailed it out the backdoor. We jumped… Read more childhood encounter with weather (no. 2) →
Here is the photo I was looking to post with “The Back Concrete Step.” It was taken in 1979. I’ve been looking for this picture for a few days, the… Read more the back concrete step (part two) →
Jeff and me in middle school…around the time of the following weather encounter. I am sure that we should not be home alone. I do not know what my parents… Read more childhood encounter with weather (no. 1) →
“Go get the stink blown off of you,” Mom said, and Jeff, my younger brother, and I high-tailed it out the backdoor. We jumped out the door onto a black… Read more the back concrete step →
I’ve been reading Handling the Truth: On the Writing of Memoir by Beth Kephart. Often I read like a wolf eats, ravenous and quick. I’ve been speeding along until I… Read more do i love? →
Early on, when the stay-at-home order was first issued, we had lots of talks around our dinner table about how this is a new normal. We would not be falling… Read more dependent on the heart →
We picked bowlfuls of black raspberries every June when I was a kid. The location of the patch is top secret. Somehow, in the abundance of our black raspberries, red… Read more buy the raspberries →
Christy Rush-Levine shared her Museum of Me on her blog, interstice. I loved it for many reasons. First, I admire Christy for the creative and diverse ways she uses mentors… Read more Museum of Me →
“Don’t let things get to be rotten apples,” my dad used to say, my dad always said. Things rot. In a barrel of apples, it’s not the ones on top… Read more rotten apples →