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A friend of mine posted a question of Facebook asking: Those of you who were elementary schoolers in the late 70s and 80s: Could you please share a few books that you read then that meant a lot to you? Or that you just super loved? I responded right away without thinking. The “Little...
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I submit to you this broken heart. A year ago, I (unintentionally!) kicked a little snowball down a snowy hill, and I discovered how cold and mean life can be. I am awfully terrible at telling personal stories, and since this story has intertwined a few other hearts of people I love, I am...
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Louis Bonaventure Chanez and Margaret Salome Urban Chanez Agnes Schebler Hiegel and Alois Hiegel – While I was at my parents place for their 50th, I got a little melancholy about genealogy. I guess as we get older, it’s easier to see how our lives are like a filament in a lightbulb… Once we...
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A BIG QUESTION Guest Post by Krista Richards Mann – I love cooking. Starting in grade school, my mother let me make dinner for the family once a week. The first recipe I remember learning was something she called salmon patties. We removed small vertebras from a can of salmon with our fingers, mixed...
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When I lived in Kansas City, I was single. This meant that I spent a great deal of my energy and mind space being frustrated and unhappy about my “alone”ness. Like most young women (and men too, I guess), I really wanted to find someone special to connect with, to be with, so long...
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(This is a guest post from Paul Merrill, part of the If Only in My Dreams: Big Question Series.) Christmas means different things to different people. After 22 years of marriage, Heather and I are finally understanding how much our families influenced how we enjoy holidays. How many presents are under the tree? Do...
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At the post office, the hated post office, where lines greet me and awful racks of greeting cards Line walls, ignored. The post office and its Perfume of desperation. The place where scales and stamps sit in dusty corners Like aristocrats awaiting their bloody fate. The post office, doomed, because It is about PLACE...
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I want things handmade. I want a life devoid of BPA-worries. I want the holidays decorated in popcorn strings and toes of knee-high socks filled with sticky penny candy and tiny oranges. I want to have the hot cocoa, but not the packaging the dried chocolate-flavored granules come in. I want to make the...
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December is the month of dreams, of nostalgia, of memories, expectations, hopes and disappointments. We were all little children once… dreaming our dreams of light and mystery, wide awake under our covers. It doesn’t matter whether those covers were cotton or silk. We are still those children. Some of us still imagine the twinkling...
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No matter where we fly, we are never free of memory.
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So, then we shout or drink and then shout. Because want to be heard. We are pilgrims in a wild frontier, uncertain of the path into the forest of tomorrow.
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This heat has No name at all until You remind yourself He. Is. There. Exit the climate-controlled Iceblock Bedroom Only to hit The Wall. Day 11, A River of Stones
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Out of the blue, I got a call/voice mail from T. Mallie the other day. It was one of those lovely long rambling messages in which she updated me on her job status and her life and her hairstyle and the general feelings of things on the Other Coast. Last time I laid eyes...
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This is a guest post from Paul Merrill. Saturday. For those of us who work Monday through Friday, Saturday is a precious day. It’s the only day we can knock a few things off that everlasting to-do list. So a few weeks ago, my son asked me to spend a Saturday with him at...
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I haven’t been posting as frequently lately. I don’t consider this writer’s block, though I once did. This is because I have been thinking. A Little Story Once I sign up for a pottery class. My friend, Rita, forced me. She berated me until I went. Fine, I said. I am not writing anyway....
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