Somewhere in an attic and/or storage facility that is not mine live three extra-large bins of Lego parts that represent the sum total of my boy's formative years. At one time each piece belonged to a set; some small, some... Read more →
I dislike generational boxes. Hard stop. I was born in 1964 and entered the public school system in 1969. I had no concept of Vietnam and less of WWII. I don't remember a time before outside the home childcare and... Read more →
It's 2 am and I'm an hour late. I know one of them will be waiting at the top of the stairs and it's crapshoot. My mother will be in the recliner with a book or my father will be... Read more →
"This state has everything!" "What?" "It's got everything!" "Elizabeth. The State of Vermont has exactly nothing, which is exactly why I live here." "But the University! The Big Box stores! AND ALL THAT SHOPPING ON CHURCH STREET PLUS THE SKINNY... Read more →
This is us; the world, you know? When the photograph was taken, the average age of these dancers was 6.43; that gorgeous smile in blue is eight, the dubious pink princess in the lower right corner is five, and the... Read more →
On Thursdays, at 9:46pm the alarm on my phone scared the shit out of me for exactly one second. Maybe less. I might have lowered the volume but that would have defeated the purpose. On Thursdays, fourteen minutes before bedtime... Read more →
Sincerest apologies to Jillian Lund as I've selected an image with a CLEAR copyright indication. I'm hoping she, and or Picture Puffin Books will consider it honest advertising and forgive me. Coolest book ever. Amazon tells me the grade level... Read more →
She likes to hear about her childhood. "and then what did I do? What did I say after that? Did I really do that?" "Yes, Boo, you really did." We're walking and then we're not. I wait and she doesn't... Read more →
Every square inch of a very large desk is covered with paper. Stacks and stacks of paper, but so orderly, so neat. Each stack tidy as a brick, the relevant context and content of my life organized by brute force... Read more →
When Talia was three, she got lost in the garden behind the house. She stomped in circles around the same copse looking for a break in the underbrush; there was none. When the moon was full, she howled. Nanny didn't... Read more →