Nov 3, 2010

So I Stopped Eating

We were moving for the tenth time in seven years and I’d seen a bad word on the side of the grocery store wall (but had no one to ask about it) and Mum didn’t tell me I was beautiful and I couldn’t go to public school and Dad was...Read more +
Oct 27, 2010

My First Grandfather Story

I have no grandfather stories. My mother’s father died of a ruptured appendix when she was 12. My father’s father died when I was nine months old, when my family was preparing to move to Florida. My father had taken a job in Jacksonville and was already working there when...Read more +
Oct 20, 2010

On the Seat of a Tractor

The two-way radio crackles, and I eavesdrop on the farmers I will feed tonight. I hear my father’s voice first, tractor rumbling in the background. His words are dressed in a smile that I cannot see but recognize from the cadence of his voice: “Wagons are empty! I’m headed back...Read more +
Oct 13, 2010

Taking Flight

She sits in a cubicle with no window, no sunlight. Oh, there's glass. But it surrounds her, so anyone who walks by can glance in and see what she's doing. This makes her jumpy and self-conscious. This morning she's scanning to see who's walking by, who might be observing her...Read more +
Oct 13, 2010

One Lone Duck Egg

When I was about ten years old, I was visiting my friend Becky, who lived on a farm down the street where they raised cows, pigs, and ducks. Becky and I spotted one lone duck egg that had fallen from its nest into the pond. I held onto a tree...Read more +
Oct 11, 2010

Reading Between the Lines

A good obituary is about life, not death; but there isn’t enough ink to tell the whole story. We send these half-written stories to print anyway, though, because they’re all we’ve got. And as we send them—and read them—we come face to face with our own mortality.
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Oct 7, 2010

Front Porch, Back Porch, Either Way You’re Welcome Here

In August, my wife and I and two kids moved into an old house. Bob and Pat to the left (if you’re looking at the house) said we are the eighth residents since they settled here 44 years ago. They hoped we wouldn’t be another set of the Clampetts. We...Read more +
Oct 5, 2010

Where Goes the Neighborhood?

Friends tell me I am too hard on the place where I grew up. Not until now did I realize, nor would I admit, that I am critical because I want it back, on my own terms. My neighborhood is a pod of houses, once on the edge, now in...
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