Humanity: Raw & Unfiltered
My father and I had a unique tradition on Saturday nights. We spent this night together for years. First, during summers when he would drive from Arizona to the cooler climes of Southern California to where I had escaped my small town roots. Later, as he grew older and frailer, Read more
Remember that song from the Pet Shop Boys, “It’s a Sin”? Everything I’ve ever done Everything I ever do Every place I’ve ever been Everywhere I’m going to it’s a sin…. This song plays continually in my head as Halloween approaches. On what is supposed to be a day of fun Read more
(For my dear sister, Kay, I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you.) Your face is fading. I see shadows of chin, cheekbone, childhood inside my mind. Orange Kool-Aid, baloney sandwiches, Aunt Carol’s peonies like colossal, pink faces thrill us. He loves me, he loves me not. You tell me you Read more
Take no heed of her…. She reads a lot of books.―Jasper Fforde, The Eyre Affair I cannot tell my son I walked to or from school in the snow because I grew up in Arizona. But I have told him I walked home the one mile route from St. Theresa Read more
What do you do when you’re a nice person and you are attacked by an asshole? I think most of us are nice by nature. We are willing to put up with others being annoying in public because we are nice. We don’t want to lessen their experience because they Read more
“That’s the whole point of life, you know? To meet new people.” ―Sherman Alexie, The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian I met Aurora by accident. I was up in the Arizona White Mountains looking for someone to cut my hair over the Read more
The passing of time is something I ponder about often. Concepts of time travel a favorite of the fantasy genre. Being able to travel through time is an appealing idea. I think we all are aware that experiencing something, whatever it is, alters us. Time traveling is interpreted many different Read more
“But behind all your stories is always your mother’s story, because hers is where yours begins.” ―Mitch Albom, For One More Day 1. One of my first memories of my mother is her French braiding my hair while I sat on our kitchen stool. Unfortunately, this was class picture day Read more
