Looking Towards Hathersage
I pause in my daily walk along the edge of the English town I live in and gaze across a soon-to-be-developed meadow and on towards the hills of DerbyshireRead More »
I pause in my daily walk along the edge of the English town I live in and gaze across a soon-to-be-developed meadow and on towards the hills of DerbyshireRead More »
For years, I did not think hairdos very important. My mother was always after me: “A little brushing would help,” she’d say.Read More »
“Jimmy!” I shout into the phone, “I’m looking out the window at my front lawn at an honest-to-God human turd!Read More »
It is strange to be thirty-nine years old and afraid to attend a Tupperware party.Read More »
“Time to go, girls!” says Maria, the supervisory auditor, pushing back her chair, sticking out a leg, and checking her hose for runs. “This is important government business!”Read More »
My English professor Anthony Hilfer, in the midst of teaching J.D. Salinger’s works, asked our class, “Can any of you think of any good stories that are about happy people?” He paused only long enough for us to blink.Read More »
“But who are you married to?” the older woman asked again.
“The German across the road,” I said for the third time.
She shook her head and frowned.
“He’s my husband,” I insisted.
She stared at me. “But . . .”
She just couldn’t believe that I, a white woman, was married to a German.*Read More »