What Labor Day Means to Me

What Labor Day Means to Me

When I was a little girl, Labor Day meant watching Jerry Lewis, waiting to hear our names called out on the telethon for our donation.  It meant fried chicken and deviled eggs and buttermilk ice cream at my cousins’ house.  Later it became the day that my cousin...
Beneath the Ashes

Beneath the Ashes

“The fire which seems extinguished often slumbers beneath the ashes.” ― Pierre Corneille I’ve been debating all day whether to write this or not . . . but I’m still thinking about it so I guess I will go ahead. I came across a blog post today in which the...

Joey

That’s what I always called him, and how I will remember him, even though he was long since “Joe” to everyone, even his brother and sister.  But he was Joey to me, my big grown-up cousin, more than a decade older than me so seeming like an adult even...
Some Things Don't Make Sense

Some Things Don't Make Sense

Terrible things evoke many responses:  tears; prayers; the urge to hide, to sleep, not to read or look or hear any more, or even to obsessively read and watch and learn everything about what happened; and, for writers, to write.  You wonder if maybe you...
error

Enjoy this blog? Please spread the word :)

RSS
Follow by Email
Pinterest
Pinterest
fb-share-icon
Instagram