Category Archives: memoir

@ prick of the spindle

For the first time in a while, I’ve had pieces published that are longer than 1000 words. One is at Prick of the Spindle. They picked up my essay, “After the Fall,” and it’s now available here. If you’ve known … Continue reading

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hearty story

My blog’s date is in the military (and faraway places) style, with the day preceding the month. I’ve tried to make it regular American, to no avail. But as Tim says, I should prefer it; it’s logical that way. Tim … Continue reading

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remembering John

In the library meeting room interfaith, spiritual, memoir enthusiasts gather. Mom takes her pen, jotting notes from long ago, before Dad, before me. Sorrows and blessings we’re asked to ponder. Hers, the sorrow of a sixteenth birthday weekend. Helping her … Continue reading

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well-wrought perspective

In January I spent some Christmas money on a book by Gary Presley, Seven Wheelchairs: A Life Beyond Polio. I’d been eager to read it, having seen excerpts on Gary’s blog. His story, like the best memoirs do, carried me … Continue reading

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sailing in a dentist’s chair, 1979

A woman in white smock, lavender pants, and white shoes adjusts the paper covering across my chest—it’s a bib, I guess—before securing it with an alligator clip at my shoulder. I settle into the chair as she leaves. A small, … Continue reading

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holey groove, 1979

Ready for work the next morning I sit on the sofa in alarmless quiet and open my Bible. “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances,” it says. I’ve sure lately fallen down in that area. “Thank you, … Continue reading

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into November, 1979

“Ah, yes, your neon green smock! What every mad scientist’s victim needs.” Kelly, who directs community programs at Rhett Avenue Christian, appraises me with a nod as I hold up my Krispy Kreme uniform. She calls over her shoulder to … Continue reading

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it comes back

Five days later we shadow the viewing room door at the mortuary. Tina and Rick stand facing a wall, their heads together, backs to the casket. Mrs. Painter touches my shoulder. She moves past me to embrace Tim. She wears … Continue reading

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with no sugar

After sunrise the lines near the Krispy Kreme cash registers tatter. Those customers who do come in find solace in a few moments’ reflection out the south-facing window before dashing off again to their cars, to a day of toiling … Continue reading

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’68 ponies are popular

Our 1965 Ford Fairlane is the car Tim bought for me early this year. He sent pictures of the engine block being installed: in one Tina Painter from next door and her boyfriend, Rick, pose near the rented hoist. Rick … Continue reading

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