The Recipe Card She Never Turned Over
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
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
“Ask Wanda where Mama’s ring went. She knows her way to a pawn counter.” My brother Vance said that at our mother’s funeral lunch, in… Read more
I want to tell you about the morning I buried my mother in Wickett, Nebraska, a town so small the welcome sign and the goodbye… Read more