Elouise and Diane (Sister #3) playing Carrom in Savannah, Georgia, June 1967.
When I was young, I became addicted to at least two ‘parlor’ games. They may not have been the greatest games going, but neither was on my father’s list of R-rated games. Besides, Read the rest of this entry »
I can’t remember when D sent me this cartoon. I do remember taking one look and saying I’ll NEVER post that cartoon!
So why not? Read the rest of this entry »
Your eyes seek the camera
Draw me into your beauty
Your calm demeanor
and stylish dress. Read the rest of this entry »
November 1966, Cambridge Apt.
Early marriage is often sweet and romantic, like this old photo. Nonetheless, we’re not going there today. This post focuses on the first of several challenges that surfaced early, Read the rest of this entry »
The Best and the Worst of Getting/Just Married:
Seriously, I don’t remember much about our double wedding Read the rest of this entry »
Contempt – intrusive, ever-present, almost impossible to pin down. But that’s exactly why I need to talk about it.
After several false starts, Read the rest of this entry »
This story is from a book I wrote in the 1990s. It’s my most vivid childhood memory of Christmas.
I couldn’t forget the look on my mother’s face when I opened my Christmas present from my grandfather. I was about 12 years old. My mother’s father lived in California; we now lived in Georgia. Gifts and letters had replaced lively visits to his apartment. Read the rest of this entry »
Because society would rather we always wore a pretty face,
women have been trained to cut off anger.
~Nancy Friday
Anger repressed can poison a relationship
as surely as the cruelest words.
~Joyce Brothers Read the rest of this entry »
I’m ready to revisit this haiku+poetry. It took a while….
carolina wren
peers into old beer bottle –
empty still
* * *
searching for myself
lost somewhere out there
in your eyes your smile
your listening ear
your approval your tenderness
your dream for me Read the rest of this entry »
I don’t do dreams; I do daydreams. Especially about young men.
It’s summer 1957. I’m 13 ½ years old, going into 10th grade. I’m back in the achingly beautiful and romantic mountains of North Carolina. Read the rest of this entry »
Telling the Truth 