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On Writing…
If you’re doing your best writing, you’re always on the cusp of embarrassing yourself.” –Arthur Miller I’ve been tasked to write my Author’s Mission Statement. It’s in the brainstorming and drafting stages at this point. I’ve stolen phrases from other writers I know. I’ve stuck fancy words in it and wrangled them around to make Read more
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My School Family and Friends
It must be the year thirty-eight, thirty-nine, or it could be forty of my teaching career.. I felt good when I walked onto campus this year until I found out my friend, the head cook, wouldn’t, couldn’t be back to work. She has terminal cancer. She seemed fine at the pool this summer. She did Read more
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A Journey With Frank Sinatra
The pile of vinyl records dropped one Frank Sinatra album onto the turntable. He crooned about Strangers in the Night, and I smiled in my sleep. The needle skipped and Snoopy and the Red Barron were fighting it out in the sky. The needle jumped to Bolero, it pranced around in my head, and a Read more
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How to hide a genius
Shunning is done with silent delight. Read more
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Every storm runs out of rain
It wasn’t the right plant for the right place like she’d hoped. Read more
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The Simple Pleasure of Coffee
It was a monumental act of kindness. Read more
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Knives or Feathers
“ ‘Whatever,’ is the wrong answer,” I said to myself, to the boys, to the cat, to the dog. Be specific in your choices. You only get to make this one once. Make it a happy one, always. Consequences come at you with knives or feathers. I much prefer feathers, the soft parts anyway. Everything…
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I Giggle at the Wrong Things
What makes me giggle? I giggle when I get attention I don’t understand. I feel too exposed, and I don’t like the word “vulnerable.” I’ve worked too hard not to be. I need to giggle more. It’s supposed to be good for you. I’ve heard it burns calories better than exercise. Some folks are born…
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Poor Ophelia
Poor Ophelia. Honor the birds that sing for you Listen for their songs Delight in their music If you can If you can Damn you, Hamlet, the twin that didn’t live ruined everything. Daddy won’t ever be right again. And there’s no room for you, is there, little girl? Mad’s triple talk. Are you out…
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Grown Up
The first time I ever felt like a grown up was on the Monday before the surgeon told me the boys were coming Wednesday at 9:00 a.m. “Not to worry,” said the husband, “our lifestyle won’t change much.” The baby beds hadn’t been bought, the nursery hadn’t been painted. He said he’d see to that. …
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Being Prompt
Being Prompt “You’re early,” “You were here first, and it doesn’t start for another hour,” said AJ. “So, what are you doing here now? Everything’s been done. They’ve got people for everything,” “I like to fine tune the space’s vibe. Play some music maybe, get the ambiance going in the right direction. Tune the energy…

