A: When I was five, we lived in a single-level cinder-block house painted a soft blue because that was the color my mother chose. B: The house was originally just a 3 bedroom ranch in the shape of an L,…
View writingNear my home is a large,empty field. A few tall weeds have broken through the dirt and probable tarmac beneath. It won’t be empty for long. I live on an island and, as a neighbor once told me: “God ain’t…
View writingHands I have held and loved Take the grounds into the filter and hand me the cup Knowing how you take it and you need it as soon as you wake up My father taught me how to make coffee…
View writingIn his calm way, our nephew Ryan sold me on spending Christmas with him and his family in Edmonton, Alberta. "There's ice skating, not in rinks, on ponds!" I love ice skating. When I was a kid, there was a…
View writingIt's everywhere in language, ambiguity, multiple ways of parsing a string. The ambiguity is sometimes phonological, sometimes syntactic, and almost invariably, even infinitely so, semantic. "All we can read is life" barely makes sense to me syntactically, while semantically it's…
View writingAll we can read is life.” Strange that you should say that. “Why? Why is it strange?” Because I’ve been reading my life. I mean it’s not “all” I can read, but when I read those old journals, I am…
View writingBenny tripped over God knows what on the courtroom floor, and I gasped along with the rest, but unlike the rest of them, I barely stifled a giggle. There's somethin' to love about a man who walks proudly with a…
View writingall we can do life reading life as something that can be read life gained from reading reading gained from life reading life the reading life life spent reading all readable material based on life what does it mean to…
View writingAll we can read is life, but is that really true? I have experienced for many years the feeling of falling into my own demise. Not worthy, no self expression, shut down, incompetent....a host of others; a book of empty…
View writingI cannot remember the last time a grown-up held my hand. I don’t think its been all that long, I just don’t remember it. My husband and I high five each other on the very rare occasions when either of…
View writingIt's a long list. But here’s one. On a December night, in the kitchen where 9 family members were eating chocolate and loudly debating about whether to play dice or Vampire Kittens, I quietly asked my grandniece, Oto, "Do you…
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