Tell us about a sensation — a taste, a smell, a piece of music — that transports you back to childhood.
On a few occasions in the early 80s, my sister and I were dropped off at Grandma’s house in a small town, Herminie, PA. Both my grandmother and grandfather had died within a few years of each other (a mark of true love) and the three bedroom “estate” was now run by a few of their nine plus children (I still have no idea how many babies Edna Mae birthed), including my mother’s fraternal twin, Aunt Maggie.
She was a bit of a loner and, in my mind, one of the lucky ones. She never married but remained totally devoted to her parents, sisters and their silly children. I never liked Herminie. My grandfather’s brood was one of maybe three black families in the area and, well, it wasn’t fun being not white in a redneck town. This particular fact is what I attribute to why my Aunt frequently visited the local bar. And, babysitting would not deter her much needed pilgrimages to her Holy Grail containing whiskey. Or was it vodka? Continue reading
“An Offer I Couldn’t Refuse.” Set a timer for ten minutes, and write it. Go!
It was already a late night when we finished our drinks. Almost midnight. Not bad for a first date. The liquid courage extinguished any and all signs of nervous ticks. We were all smiles and moved on to touching hands, shoulders. Questions and quaint interrogations about his job, family, origins, and recent divorce had killed the first two hours of conversation.
Those green eyes. The months of unwanted celibacy. At 41, could a walk of shame be reason for slut shaming?
Four years later…Earth Day is the anniversary of our one night stand still celebrated. (HEY now!)
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Morton’s Fork.”
If you had to choose between being able to write a blog (but not read others’) and being able to read others’ blogs (but not write your own), which would you pick? Why?
I find the skills I’m best at are the ones I dread doing the most. So I guess I prefer to listen, read, and scroll other’s comments, rants and opinions. It’s enlighten to find the differences in how folks communicate, particularly when they respond to pop culture. Reading the “body” language of text should be very important to character study of the book I may never write.
Love you. Mean it.
I am not Richie Cunningham nor do I have a wife named Oprah.(Pop culture reference.) I AM fortysomething and can be fabulous when blessed with enough boredom to shut my laptop and ignore social media alerts. Lately, these blessings are few and far between so I thought why not be even more fabulous and write as much as I read and scroll. I have come to terms that my unused B.A. in Journalism will not make me millions but, what the hell? Those student loan payments have to count for something! Continue reading