… it’s the only place I could find diesel, standing in a sweatshirt when it’s thirty below, standing there without gloves on and pumping the fuel into a red gasoline jug.
Demanding This by Jessica Bryant Klagmann
Category: Most Memorable
Our Most Memorable program was sunset in spring 2019; please enjoy viewing the archived stories tagged with “most memorable” of each issue.
Pile Driving, Poetry and Poultry by Sangamithra Iyer
I was 26 years old; the same age my father was when he arrived in America in 1969 with seventy-five cents in his pocket. It was my first birthday without him
Sex, Drugs and Vic Giovanni by Robert Weinberger
He is thirty-five, wears Hai Karate aftershave, drives a maroon 1970 El Dorado, and sits too close to me on the piano bench. For the first fifteen minutes of every piano lesson, Vic Giovanni details his sexual exploits, claiming numerous rendezvous with many Hollywood actresses.
Tell Me Something Wonderful by MT Cozzola
When my mom got the cancer, I wanted her to have the best post-death experience ever. She had this thing about being buried alive.
The Loyal Order by Debbie Hemley
My father, not particularly a natural athlete or a sports fan for that matter, took to bowling. The game seemed to suit him like nothing else did.
A Graveside Nuptial by Sean Finucane Toner
The streets in New Hope, Pennsylvania are tree-lined, the restaurants have charm, the engagement rings we finally choose are hand-crafted. But how closely does what I feel match what she sees?
My First Trip Truckin’ by Chris Cox
After three weeks of training, a period my classmates and I called Truck U., I had to pass two tests (written and driving) to earn a commercial driver’s license.
Long Time Gone: September 27, 2010 by Sheila Grace Stuewe
Instead of funding my 401K, I invest in concert tickets…. I know it seems absurd to spend money to find a way to escape from it. But I’m doing it anyway.
The Shangri-La That Isn’t by Jennifer Tuman
Heat and flies. Flies landing on my head, my arm, my plate, my food. Flies I have to constantly flick away while I eat.
Discovering Quebecois Cuisine by Kris Rudolph
I heard the distinct sound of a sniffle as I looked up and saw a naked woman climb onto a cluttered desk.
