(This post is a part of the #reverb16… what’s that? Check it out!) The prompt for today’s #reverb16 calls for me to channel the warmth of the tropics (despite our New England locale). Prompt #6: Sunny Surprises. Most of North America starts to get frosty and cold this time of year. If you had an unusually warm…
Here is the look of the Midwest in a summer storm. To me, this landscape is not only the most familiar, it is the most comforting. How can a sky look so forbidding — so menacing and beautiful — but we are not allowed to do so? I was 14 and in my first year…
Ten years ago I lived on Delaware Road in London. Colin had gotten himself half-addicted to internet poker (mostly because he understood the algorithms) and I, in an attempt to connect with him in on his online poker island, suggested writing a couple’s poker blog. It was adorable… called “Poker Sweet Home: Married to the Flop”. It…
After the doctor broke the news to my mom and dad and me that mom would die soon, I held onto the 15 cent spiral notebook like it was a life raft. There isn’t enough time to ask and get answers to the really big questions in life before life says “I’m outta here.” It…
Two flights, five burgers at the Atlanta TGI Friday’s airport location. A bag of gummy Lifesavers, and of course, the real lifesavers: four headsets, an iPad and two iPhones with digital movies. One hour’s drive, and we are home. By home, I mean. HOME. Not Iowa, the place I grew up. I mean: here. Connecticut.…
At the beginning of my parenting experience, I said “no” often. The noise and the mess was a lot to handle. Not to mention the plain issue of just keeping track of where all the little live bodies were in space and time. And what they were planning to put in their mouth at that…
These are my “home shoes.” I don’t mean slippers or anything like that. What I mean is: when I am wearing this shoe configuation — ie. tennis shoes and blue jeans — I feel “home.” It’s a cultural thing. And a family thing. Growing up, this is what we wore: white tennis shoes, blue jeans,…
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 break…
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 as…
I’ve discovered that my friend Colleen Bradford Krantz and her colleague, Paul Kakert (who is from my hometown!) have had their documentary film, Train to Nowhere, nominated for a regional Emmy. I’m so proud of them, but not really for the recognition from the awards people. More than that, I am proud of Colleen and…
I-74Across the Mississippi–That Familiar vein throughMy life I Cross this morning east.Your still flatness hides Lonely strongCurrentsPulling me back. Day 9, A River of Stones
Into the northwest On a thick summer Evening come Leaden skies Like a bad dream. Day 5, The River of Stones.
… layered and wilting into golden reds– You put Disney Princess blush To shame
Or, A Tribute to My Bossy Mom My sibs and I basically had to be projectile puking or have an arm falling off in order to stay home from school when we were kids. Mom’s philosophy on life? Get on with it. Impatient and ready-to-go NOW, Mom was at the heel, pumping us with her…
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. Might…
