The Report Cards He Kept
Six weeks after my father’s funeral, I stood at the door of his workshop with the spare key in my hand, and I still could… Read more
Six weeks after my father’s funeral, I stood at the door of his workshop with the spare key in my hand, and I still could… Read more
For fifty-one years I believed I was the daughter my mother tolerated and my sister was the daughter she loved. I was so certain of… Read more
For forty one years I lost to the same woman. Her name was Hollis Lundqvist, and every August, at the Cleabourne County Fair, in the… Read more
My phone is the newspaper now. Has been for eleven years, ever since the Tillerton Weekly folded and old Ferd Quackenbush packed his printing press… Read more
For eleven years my sister in law Darlene told anyone who would sit still long enough that I had stolen forty one thousand dollars from… Read more
My grandson Gabe was fifteen years old when he stood up at his mother’s dinner table with a fork still in his hand and broke… Read more