• Sisters Out of Sync

    Sisters Out of Sync

    In my earliest memories, I live with my parents in McKeesport, Pennsylvania. I’m four years old. My life began in the 1960s. Dr. Spock tended to my health, Dr. Seuss oversaw my early education, and my entertainment was provided by cartoons and reruns of I Love Lucy. Born to parents who were in their 40s, Read more

  • Hands, Revisited

    Hands, Revisited

    My thanks to Jeff Cann, whose Windows to My Soul inspired me to keep thinking aobut hands. ….. When I was a child, my father taught me that the height of a horse is measured in hands. He demonstrated on his own horse, Azure, placing his hand sidelong up the length from the hoof to Read more

  • Hands

    Hands

    Daddy’s were beautiful.  At the table, holding a piece of buttered bread. Cutting meat, lifting his glass to his lips, water droplets on its surface wetting his fingertips. When he looked behind him before backing up the car, he reached his right hand over the front seat. From the backseat, I stared at it.   Read more

  • How Not to Ruin a Perfectly Good Retirement

    How Not to Ruin a Perfectly Good Retirement

    Ted and Joan sit on their immaculately maintained backyard deck, wearing their designer shades and sun hats and sipping iced tea from tall frosted glasses. Lounging on the kind of posh outdoor furniture featured in home and garden magazines, they watch as a team of landscapers re-mulches their flowerbeds, prunes their trees, manicures their lush Read more

  • The Gentle Art of Waving to Neighbors

    The Gentle Art of Waving to Neighbors

    Morning arrives at Lakeside Manors. I step into my athletic shoes, put on my sunglasses, and fail, as I often do, to comb my hair. Then I’m out my front door for a vigorous walk before I start my day. On the streets surrounding my house, I see others. Some, like me, are out for Read more

  • ‘I’m Nobody.’ You Too?

    ‘I’m Nobody.’ You Too?

    One of the most interesting tidbits to emerge from my recent dabbling in genealogy is the revelation that Emily Dickinson is my sixth cousin. A few times removed, yes, but we’re cousins, nevertheless. Now that I’ve made this discovery, I feel as if my life finally makes sense. It makes sense that I spent all those hours Read more


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Do you write about yourself and your experiences? Do you write about traumatic events in your life? Or, do you struggle to find time and motivation to write?

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