First-person narratives based on real human experiences. The moments that change us. The relationships that define us. The lessons we carry forward.
I was standing at the counter of Scioto Trail Federal Credit Union on Bridge Street with my scrubs still smelling like the twelve-hour shift I... Read more
The filing cabinet in my father in law’s tack room has three drawers, and I had walked past it a hundred times in four months... Read more
I want to tell you about the exact second my name came over the loudspeaker in the exhibit hall at the Clay County Fair, because... Read more
The music came on over the speakers the way it always did on a Tuesday morning at Petersen’s Market, tinny and a little too cheerful... Read more
The letter came on a Tuesday, and I read it standing up at the kitchen counter because I did not trust my knees to hold... Read more
My daughter Denise waited until every chair at my table was full before she stood up, tapped her water glass with a fork like she... Read more
The morning it started, I was up before the sun the way I have been up before the sun for fifty years, standing in the... Read more
My son Grant stood in my own front yard with a bullhorn borrowed from the volunteer fire department and told a half circle of strangers,... Read more
“It was junk, Vernon. Ash. You should thank me for the closure.” That is what my brother-in-law Stanley told me in the spring of 1987,... Read more
The day my nephew Trent stood in Gordon Pruitt’s law office and told him I wasn’t even really on the deed to my own home,... Read more