Our Most Memorable program was sunset in spring 2019; please enjoy viewing the archived stories tagged with “most memorable” of each issue.
When my father said the word predisposed, I felt a twinge of nerves. We were having “the talk.” Not the one about birds or bees, but something bigger and scarier that my brother and I would have to inevitably face…
It was a Saturday morning … and I was in a community art school, awaiting the arrival of a handful of seventh-grade students in the fledgling PILOT program—Pottstown Influential Leaders of Tomorrow.
I lie against his back, my arms tucked against my chest, and feel the heft and warmth of his body.
He was waiting for the streetcar and seemed familiar to me because I’d dreamt about someone like him the night before.
Raindrops pelt your umbrella like pebbles. It’s October, late afternoon, a charcoal sky. We’re standing an inch apart; you’re shivering.
You weigh 214 lbs. Your bulletproof vest weighs 4 lbs. and 5 oz. Your duty belt weighs 14 lbs. and 13 oz. Some days, I want to know the weight of all the things you carry.
My daughter Frances is a reader. Not that she’d appreciate me telling you this. She doesn’t like me to categorize her. Even though saying someone is a reader should be good. Right? It’s not like saying she’s a thief.
I know as well as anyone the ridiculous, bread and circuses fascination America has with sports but sometimes I just get sucked into its narrative, just like people do with afternoon soaps, teenage vampires, or reality “talent” shows.
He held it up and out, away from his body and along his arm. He used it to point at us sitting there in front of him. Over the curved edge, he gathered us in his sights.
I never say abuse. Instead, I slide into cliché. It was no picnic, I say. Had a rough childhood, but the texture means nothing to anyone else.
