SCHISM

SCHISM

I’ve decided to try an experiment—using train of thought to write a vignette about my parents, beginning with:

We hardly ever did things together as a family—as far back as I can remember, anyway. Nor did my parents spend…

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HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

In my journal I wrote:

Friday, when I was driving Emma to my house, half a block away we saw two turkeys strolling nonchalantly down the sidewalk. I looked around for someone they might belong to but…

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TO A LIGHTHOUSE – Part III

TO A LIGHTHOUSE – Part III

On the road again, we head north to the town of Pescadero and Duarte’s restaurant, famous for its artichoke soup. It’s a rustic tavern with wood-paneled walls and huntsmen’s trophies overhead—sets of deer antlers with and without heads. I marvel again at how beautiful...

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TO A LIGHTHOUSE – Part II

TO A LIGHTHOUSE – Part II

As I’ve said:

After we’ve bought our tickets, we have to scuttle to catch up with the last tour. A hundred and thirty-five steps, our guide tells us—Earl essays them despite his bad leg. I’m secretly grateful for…

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TO A LIGHTHOUSE – Part I

TO A LIGHTHOUSE – Part I

From A Patchwork Memoir:

“Hi! It’s me!” I greet Earl when he answers the phone. “Hi, me!” he humors me. (Pippa, his boarder, tells me when Earl recounts one of our adventures he always begins, “Me and I…”)

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KISSING GAME

KISSING GAME

In a box of childhood mementos, I came across my Bluebird autograph book with the entry above. In A Patchwork Memoir I wrote: The Cow Pasture wasn’t one, and there wasn’t a single desiccated cow pie to prove it ever had been, as far as Wolfy and I could discover. It was a…

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