On Motherhood
Yesterday, in my car, I watched two women cross an intersection in front of me on foot. They looked to be a mother and daughter. Mom was perhaps 40 and the daughter about 20. Daughter said nothing, strode . . .
Christmas Eve in the Hills of Hannibal
I grew up in the Midwest, with real winters. I don’t miss shoveling snow, trudging mini-mountains of sludge or wading slush. Snow plows scraped up and down our street and past our driveway, installing hard-packed barricades of misery and...
Little Things of Christmas
Aunt Martha and Uncle Charles in Tallahassee have not felt up to the task of stringing lights on their fresh Christmas tree, which you can smell throughout the small house. Since Lisa and I are visiting them we are happily doing that holiday...
The Mansplainer Attacks Before Dawn
I’m sitting in St. Charles Tavern, pre-dawn, drinking coffee and listening to a mustachioed, 50ish guy dressed in a plaid shirt and a ball cap, deep of throat and shallow of content, loudly and with great passion explain to a young couple the...