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Babe, your writing is REALLY GOOD! I don’t dare ask if all the stuff about your mother is true–obviously in some sense it is/was. But you are LOADED with talent, and I hope you’ll share some of your writing with me from time to time, even if I now have only half a brain. Kath
A powerful piece, in which you capture the light and shade of this poignant journey, without sentimentality. A hard read, with great literary beauty, and authenticity. Thank you.
I was moved by this. What a time we live in where we must wrestle with the pain of deciding whether to have a child while also wondering if our search engine histories may lead to our arrest.
Beautiful and powerful. Thank you for sharing
Excellent work. A clear voice. Vividly illustrated adolescence.
Beautifully done. Economically written yet evocative.
Chilling, understated but powerful.
Really moving piece, and I love your tone. I’m not a parent and didn’t grow up in the US, but I felt this all the same.
Oh this is really good. I especially appreciate the time stamps so we are grounded from the the opening sentence. Also the pacing is just right, leading us slowly through the different events and giving us relief with each conclusion. The ongoing theme of the son’s clothing and colors he’s wearing is heartbreaking (“I don’t worry about identifying his body”) and the interiority of the narrator works so well – we can’t help but like and respect his character. This essay is relatable on so many levels and beautifully written. I’d love to read more work by Michael.
Yes, I have a boy ( he’s almost 41) and I cried as I read this too.This is a fabulous piece of writing.
I remember putting my boy on the bus when he was 12 in Glace Bay and following it into Sydney, telling him he could press the buzzer at any time, get off & I would be behind the bus and would pick him up. We were close like you & Keil.
I met both of you when you bought a couch I was selling when you first arrived in CB, & Kail was a baby.
My boy has now traveled all over the world, has a PhD (& 2 post docs) is married and teaches in England.
It all went by in a heartbeat. Kail will be fine. He will detach & build his own life.
Beautiful writing, Tori. This brought me to tears.
Your writing transported me unwillingly to see every aspect. Beautiful and haunting.
Gorgeous, rich storytelling. Made me tear up.
I feel he wasn’t treasured nor looked after enough by your family. He should’ve been vaccinated against distemper; then given he survived, kept inside on that stormy day.
As an essayist, I admire your writing style; unique and engaging.
This was a story? I was expecting a lot more. A lot.
This is a lovely review! Thank you for it. I just wanted to point out an error: halfway through it starts referring to the author as “Miller” instead of “Wilson.”
Thank you for reading, Mollie, and pointing this out. We’ll get this revised!
Compelling and beautifully written. My heart yearned with emotion through the entire piece.
Erica, I love the quiet power in your story.
I too live in Mesa, AZ.
Wow.
Beautifully written. Fantastic details and world buidling. Strong characterization. One of the best essays I’ve read in a while. Bravo, Carrie.
You’ve said so much, with so few words. Beautiful.
Excellent work. Beautifully written.
Incredible article. I love your perspective, but I also love your writing. It’s beautiful. ❤️
This broke my heart. Thank you for sharing your story, Patricia.
Thank you so much for reading my story, JD. 🙂
This story swirls me in many directions. Thank you.
Well, Pamela! Thanks for making demonstrating EVERY point made in her work about cultized minions. I do hope you find a de-programmer.
A beautifully written heart-lifting and heart-sinking story.
You’re very kind, Madeline. Thank you very much.
My stomach sunk when I read this story. I can’t imagine going from joyful (and hopeful) happiness to embarrassment. I wondered how she felt about going to school the next day.
I appreciate you reading my story, Debra! Thank you so much!
Beautifully written and perfectly constructed story. And what an emotional punch. This will stay with me for a while.
Thank you so much for your kind words, Annie. 🙂
What an amazing writer. Capturing the confusion of a child and the wisdom of the grief stricken. “The name belonged to everyone.” So alone and so sad. Thank you.
I love the way you have written this journey. It caused a hitch in my breath when you repeated what your mother said when you were ten. I hope that she conveyed her closing statement of love to you when you were still a child. If not, I feel your scars, and the bowl’s.
Wonderful! This made me think fondly of my dad and New York and Parliaments and potential sex with Philip Roth.
Wonderful story. It simply captured a daunting, troubling experience. Kudos to you!
Thank you so much, Cathy! Very kind of you!
Incredibly convincing and tragic. So real that I almost had to stop
reading. Thanks,
Jane
So excruciating and real, sadly. So much unintended pain in our world.
Very authentic, and draws me in.
Loved this. So terse, and an unusual subject. Excellent!
Very powerful, convincing, moving.
This is a moving piece told in a very straight forward way. Thank you.
Wow, amazing piece. So intense and brilliantly written.
“Perhaps you gave me your name, not to chain me as a 顶天立地的男子汉, but because it was the widest thing you knew. A shelter. A promise. A thing that could hold both of us, even when we didn’t know how to hold each other.” Wow, that is so, so lovely.
“…proud of your ability to squeeze into tight spaces.” That made a sonic boom when it landed!
Such a moving story full of complex emotions.
Thank you for reading my story, Patrick. I am very grateful!
I like how you tangle and untangle the dilemma of thinking about thinking, while trying not to! As a long time meditator, I can relate to your essay and appreciate the heartbreak you so lovingly describe as part of having a human body.
Such a unique and touching story. Left me feeling so many emotions. Happiness from . The beauty of the love of the mother and daughter. Anxious – as to what the boy was thinking. Anger that he took off. Sadness for the situation. Love your writing .
Thank you so much for your kind words, Patricia! I am grateful!
Rough and tough and perfect to read. Gritty sweet! 👏👏👏
Thank you so much for reading!
Such a moving and skillful depiction of a young girl’s complicated life. Worth reading and re-reading several times.
Thank you so much, Anne. I appreciate you reading my story. 🙂
Oh, how my heart broke for Crazy Annie’s girl. Thank you for sharing your gift, definitely felt connected to her response when she realized he had followed her home.
Thank you so much for reading my story, Jen. 🙂
So relatable! Been there with the bad boy crush. Been there with the hiding food hoarding. Been there with the low self esteem and butter rum life savers! I love the last line of what we truly want! Thanks for writing this.
Thank you for reading! It was scary to put out there, so this means a lot.
A rare, moving story. Loved the MC and the mother daughter relationship. .It’s beautiful touching ..
I am so grateful to you, Devayani. Thank you so much for reading my story! 🙂
Wow, this story packs a punch and so beautifully written. Funny, sad, lyrical, potent. Loved reading it.
Thank you so much, Deborah!
What a heart-wrenching story! Beautiful writing, as always. Thanks for this unforgettable CNF piece, Patricia.
Thank you so much, Shanti for reading and commenting. You always brighten my day! 🙂
Fabulous. Completely involved in the story,
Thank you so much, Ed! I appreciate you taking the time to read and comment. Very grateful.
What devastatingly beautiful storytelling this is, Patricia. That ending! Thank you for sharing your heart on the page with us. It was truly a gift to enter into this traumatic moment with you. Air hugs!
You send the best air hugs, Tracie! I’m sending one back! Thank you so much for reading my story and showing such empathy. It fills my heart.
What a powerful journey your memory took me on!
This essay is rich and powerful in such a short amount of space. Thank you.
I am full of admiration for your short story.
Thank you, Diane! I appreciate you reading my story. 🙂
Seems like a very racist man. Too focused on other people’s appearance with his pizza face!
Sounds like a wonderful book! Just bought it and will jump right in. Am interested because of your discerning insights, and because the book will revive memories of my own New Orleans childhood. Great review!
From the inside to the outside ,your beauty shines dear Laura. God bless.
Thank you for this compelling review. I’ve been wanting to read this book since I first heard the title.
So beautifully and intensely written! Amazing!
Casual cruelty is often the most painful. This was beautiful.
Hi. I found this book thru a very positive review of it in The NY Times. Expecting a titillating read that would shed great light on a world I knew very little about, I bought it and am most of the way through it.
I was unprepared for the depths of confessed neurosis, egomania and even callous indifference to basic decency. No, I’m not talking promiscuous sex- got no problem with that. Nor in fact am a hostile, particularly, to White for his memoir. He is one of the most talented writers I have ever read.
No, what truly disturbs me is the warm, benign reviews such as yours, that I have been reading. As if his admissions of rape are just charming anecdotes. Or that his oblivious inability to empathize with his lovers, or to care about their feelings are passed off as somehow not pathological. (Even he professes to believe they are.)
The implication is that he is representative of the gay community in general, and that this is all somehow ok. In fact, I know that neither is true, from my association with many kind, well balanced gay folk. I expect that even White is wondering why this bleak, anti-humanistic cry of agony is being so cheerfully lauded by so many…
Fantastic, beautifully told essay. Tone, characterization, dialogue, scenes, so well done. Thank you.
beautiful, thank you for sharing this with us
Such a fine matching of minds and insights, almost over my non-academic head, I have to admit, and yet enticing, curiosity invoking.
Uninterested as I am in romance novels, the idea that they, or their authors leave out the reality of life after the romantic end, speaks to me. How come, otherwise sensible, emancipated women, even those with their own bank accounts give in to, or are always having to fight those age-old patterns in marriage?
As reviewed by Amanda, Loveland seems to invite an interesting dialogue with the reader.
It’s incredible what you were able to convey in so few words.
So brief, yet powerful. I loved this.
Outstanding work here. A terrible situation that you had to endure.
Ooh this was fantastic and inspiring. I love a piece that creates questions out of the gate, words that move the reader forward, slow-building tension, raw honesty, and especially when a narrator can look deep within herself and share what she sees with the world. Bravo.
Damn. Heartbreaking.
Thoroughly enjoyed this. Wonderful work.
This was great. Painful and vulnerable.
What a terrific piece. Thanks for sharing it and, before that, for the courage to get it down on paper with such craft.
Wow. So well done.
This is a gripping and painful story. Thanks, Jane
Stunning. “I’m on to him” …”Another way to say subtract is to remove”….”This time, when his wife calls the sheriff, it is Dad who is taken away.” Artfully done, from one daughter of a parent with dementia to another.
I enjoyed it, too. It’s beautifully paced and the segmenting is so smooth and well crafted. New York was very alive in this piece, Thanks to both writer and Hippocampus for making it available.
Judging from this great piece, I don’t think you peaked in high school.
Love the moment between you and your daughter.
Wow. So well done. So sorry for the circumstances.
Such a great story and so well written! I loved it 😍
Well, that’s enough to convince me to get the book. Thank you!
My heart raced through the read. Perfection!
How? How do you say one word in the moment of meeting again? Even one? Maybe we can make a circle someday. Maybe we can circle around the point, never center on it—maybe someday circle around the radioactive center of the bomb. You did what she could not. You took the long way around and faced her. Your courage encouraged her to finally lift her gaze to meet yours. Her love of words echoed in your own, your eyes searching hers, your footsteps tracing hers, and following your own path home. In the moment of meeting again, she read the letter in your eyes. My mother is a woman whose identity is entwined, whose words are wrapped up, in protecting her husband from himself. As a child I created the mother I needed; as a woman I faced the child she was. From my broken heart to yours, I wish you a lifetime of kindness.
Great story!
Powerful
🏳️⚧️🩵🩷🤍🩷🩵🏳️⚧️
I loved this piece! Thank you for articulating what is most important. As we worry about things like publication, sales, readership and reputation, you remind us that what we do that is most important is touch other people’s lives and souls and, in so doing, touch our own. Thank you!
LMAO you are so self centered it is insane
Concise, experience-based advice that gives authors, who have transitioned into sellers, practical alternatives to consider. I like the six possible goals supported with real life means to achieving those goals. A little something for everyone. Much to think about.
that was good, Well written and very informative. thanks!
How raw. And beautiful. Says everything with so minimal words. So much devotion and love in a bandage.
Wow, Anne, intense & poignant. Reminds me of the time I witnessed a butterfly emerge from its chrysalis. Love it!
Love this!!
What rights are your purchasing regarding the winning and non-winning manuscripts?
Hi! We just posted the guidelines for this year’s contest. For the contest and any essays we accept, it’s always one-time rights. Thank you!
This was so infomative! Thank you
So beautiful, so achingly sad, so poignant, such symmetry. Very well done Rayya.
Thanks for this review. Sounds intriguing.
A fabulous piece–thank you for weaving in the fairy tales–they have so many hidden messages that we absorb. and thank you for being brave enough to share your story. Excellent piece.
Beautiful.
I love this so much, Casey! I’m throwing my hat in the ring! Delighted to see my skill set and qualifications of use!
Thank you, Eileen, and Happy New Year! I’m learning many of us could get in line for this job!
Thank you, Fran, and yes, I’m sorry for your losses too. They shape us, don’t they?
Thank you so much for this, Ranee. I’m honored to be in your best of collection!
Thank you, Jules!
Liesl, we used to write baby-sitters club fan-fiction together, but the above is so much better than that. I have mint growly freely in the orchard just beyond my window now, maybe one day you can come and pick some for our drinks and we can write some more. xo
This piece is so moving, I couldn’t stop reading it and raced to the end. As a mom I remember longing for those quiet moments alone away from the kids. I felt as relieved almost as nearly as Kail did when she returns.
I feel seen! Sigh. Sorry for all of our losses.
“The hours of her labour continue to bring light.” What a heartbreak and much needed poem. Thank you Rayya!
What a brave piece. Thank you for sharing, this could make a difference in the world.
As a former career counselor, I delight in this clever—and spot-on—hermit crab. You’ve nailed both the form and the theme, and I’m saving this piece in my “best of” collection. Thanks for a great read!
Ranee, thank you! Maybe you’d also enjoy my newly released memoir, The Full Catastrophe: All I Ever Wanted, Everything I Feared! (so sorry for the shameless self-promotion!)
What a beautiful review conveying how writing personal stories forges strong connections between writers and readers. Brava!
This is a beautiful review that gives me compassion for the journey of both the book author and the review author. And it makes me want to read Everywhere the Undrowned. What a compelling story.
This is the type of review I love—so well-written that it’s a riveting read on its own while also making me immediately search for the book so I can read it myself. Both if these women have fascinating stories, and I’m eager to know more.
Tiffany, this is a fabulous hermit crab, as many are, deceiving in its simplicity, yet a writer knows how long you must have labored over Every. Single. Word. Beautiful job, and so moving.
I loved your review. Any chance you’d be interested in reviewing a memoir about a fundamentalist family who slowly turns into a secular humanist family? It’s got some true crime in it
Hi Deborah, I’m honored that you asked. This sounds fascinating. I’d love to but I don’t know when I’d find the time in all of 2025. I’ve already comitted to reviewing several other books and have my own WIP as well.
Nice job!
Lisa, thank you! xo
The stream of consciousness works really well for this piece. Brava!
Well done, Casey. Very happy for you.
Thank you, Jules!
Beautiful commentary on identity, Kate/Elizabeth/Lu/Sedor. Thanks for expanding my understanding about what it’s like to be ABC. You are in some amazing writing company.
Our human need for and attachment to furry friends is incredible. Thanks for this. Your bio is so diverse and impressive!
Sorry for your trauma. I’m a survivor, too. Thanks for sharing this. You are brave.
Beautifully and cleverly written, Casey, and so hard to swallow. The pain, I mean. Congratulations.
Thank you, Polly. xo
Belinda, this is Bruce, Verna’s friend from long ago. I have always loved Verna and I miss her terribly to this day. She was the love of my life.
So creative! Plus funny. Plus sad. Bravo!
Thanks, Jocelyn!
xoxo
Fabulous turn. And the words pared down as with a scalpel. Well done!
I believe my skills and experience provide a perfect match for this role.
Thank you, Trish! xo Miss you!
I’ve learned in the past few days that you may have stiff competition! This one seems to have struck a chord. 😉 xo
Wow … I might be overqualified 😉 So much of this resonates with me, especially the part about staying awake at night imagining every worst scenario … as if being “prepared” would ever make one prepared. Congratulations on being published in Hippocampus!
So much to thank you for today, Marie. I’m learning so many of us qualify for this position, sadly. 🩷
Ahhhh, and so I remember, beautiful
Whoops, somehow my reply ended up in the wrong spot…Thanks for this. Miss you! xo
Wonderful piece, Casey. A wake up call and the truth reminding us live well today.
Thank you, Charlotte. Live well today should be our mantra.
Wonderful piece, Casey!
Thank you, Rachel!
Great piece, Casey. My resume is on your desk.
I’ll keep it on file. You know I can’t handle this workload alone 😉
Wow Casey. Well done. Sending hugs.
Thank you, Frances, and hugs right back to you.
I love the way that you’ve made commonplace questions we get asked every day into something moving. You tell the reader so much just through questions. Simple but elegant.
Who does Ms. Tate think she is, telling people whom they may/may not vote for just because SHE doesn’t approve??? Well, Ms. Tate, maybe YOU should be the one who is ostracized for your voting preferences. Why don’t you open your home to illegal immigrants and squatters and invite them for Thanksgiving?
Thank you. This was wrenching – and beautifully rendered.
I have been waiting for fresh, reimagined prose for too long. This is it. Thank you, Hippocampus, for bringing this forward. What a gift.
In the abstract, this piece is a carmen figuratem. It has taken the shape of grief, the movement of it, the back and forth from present to past, the swirl of it. What a brilliant piece of writing.
*figuratum.
What an incredibly moving piece.
What a beautiful piece of writing. I cried intermittently. Thanks for sharing this vulnerable story.
Oh Monika, I truly loved your story. I could visualize your son every step of the way and feel the emotions you were both experiencing as you so generously shared your experiences.
Well done, Brenda Howard (Sheena’s Mom )
I am Sheena’s Dad, Bruce. Well written piece and everyone is able to feel your and Kails emotions. Very nice
Through my tears, I recognize the sacred poetry of this birth story – how perfectly Elizabeth captures the waves of labor and the way our children give us a strength we never knew we had.
The Reward poster is a heartbreaker. Than you for voicing this.
Hello, Belinda Kein! Do you remember me? Around 1981 or 2, La Jolla poetry gatherings? John Sheehan?
Loved the sheer dedication to an out-of-nowhere subject. Not unlike Susan Orlean, but personal as well as particular. Really enjoyed reading this.
Gripping. Loved it. Well done!
Thank you.
This is not 2017. It’s 2024. I have much to work through re: the death of my mother, who was abusive to me when I was a child…just a lot of beating and “gas-lighting.” But bad enough. You are really giving me some ideas. I have written so many poems about her and am now writing a memoir at the request of my children. I’ve titled it “Linear Rainbow,” because I have indeed had a shining life but streaked, also, with dark. I am now 85 years old and still writing (and being published.) I am tempted to subscribe to you and may do so.
All the best to you. I am also a teacher.
Marianna Busching (pen name: Emma Aragon)
Loved.
Love Love Love this Tanya. Many blessings. Mary Amber
I have been working on crn to submit since the pandemic. I love the genre. I am always reading for ways stories are told and what kept me moving forward was the manner in which you broke up the piece, ‘Dad and I share many things.’ Two types of intimacy.
Thank you
Wish this was on Kindle.
Pardon my naivity, Jan, because I never read anything but physical books–I’m old school (paper calendar too!)–but I’m assuming an eBook isn’t the same thing? It does come as an eBook, and I’d love to see you reading it. 🩷♥️🩷
It is on Kindle! Thx for your interest!
Great review and it describes the many facets of the book so well. I also really enjoyed it. I do enjoy the outdoors, but the idea of embarking on such a wild, risky adventure is hard for me to understand. And yet, I was also drawn in by story, context and the author’s very relatable voice.
This is why we read, right?! To see ourselves but also to broaden our understanding of others and the world. I’m so glad you enjoyed the book too. I loved it so much and appreciate you taking the time to comment.
Appreciate Melissa for highlighting the multiple themes and layers while pointing out how this book’s marketing as adventure limits how people view it. Glad you both gave it a chance and found more 🥰
The review itself was such a great read, I didn’t want it to end.
So many relatable topics are touched on, from the body and food issues, the family situations, the Jewish aspect, and even the appreciation of nature. The last line of deeper understanding of what it means to human, both fragmented and whole snagged me ☀️ordering now.
Best comment ever. I’m touched and also so happy that my words are leading you to Mimi’s!
Honestly I am not interested in outdoorsy adventure books either. But the Jewish story sounds so compelling. This review is so beautifully written that it has convinced me to buy the book. Sold!!
I feel like a bookslinger, and it makes me so happy!!! 😀
You’ve done a fabulous job writing this, weaving your own story, highlighting relatability /universalism. So grateful 🙏❤️
Great review! Going to add this one to my TBR queue.
Thank you! I know how long that queue is, so I’m especially grateful.
I had to laugh because I, too, would not be drawn to an adventure story, but this wonderful, very thoughtful review changed my mind. Sounds like a great, multi-layered read. Ordering now!
That makes me so, so happy, Diane. My job is DONE! <3
agree! Can’t wait to hear Diane’s thoughts! ❤️
“ Whatever your identity — climber, doctor, dancer, writer, Jew — come as you are, with a reverence for story and an unquenchable curiosity, and leave with a deeper understanding of what it means to be human: “fragmented and whole” and electrically alive for as long as the mountain will hold you.” Such a fabulous last line Melissa, wonderful review.
Wonderful interview Lara! For another review of “I Could Name God” please visit https://www.stephenanewton.com/book-reviews/i-could-name-god-in-twelve-ways-essays
This had me in tears by the end. Such a heartfelt piece.
This was so beautiful, it gave me chills.
Agree with all previous comments. I loved the quiet, anxious acceptance of her daughter’s choices, her availability, her hope, her pain , her presence.
There is an underlying feeling of optimism and hope, which, with the action needed to carry on, makes this a happy story—thanks .
What a powerful piece! I could feel the protagonist pain.
Beautiful writing, Sydney! I was glued to your story. 🙂
Ryen, awesome narrative. You pulled me in and held me the whole time. Thank you for this wonderful piece.
Wow. Powerful.
I agree. Beautifully written. I was hooked from the first paragraph, heartbroken for the mother, captivated by the story, the scenery, the fear, the mother daughter interaction and silence, and most of all satisfied by the ending.
There’s a way that this essay is soothing, even in talking about loss, longing, and trauma. Love it!
This is really beautiful and moving!
Thank you for reading!
Beautifully expressed, thank you.
Dear Natasha, thank you so much for writing this piece. It captures the emotions about losing a loved one with so much honesty. The inversion of the role of caregiver between a parent and child especially is especially hard in a South Asian family where our elders are always so stoic and protective, standing as a formidable figures for the younger family members. This helped me confront a lot of the fears I have about my grandparents growing older. Thank you for portraying this complex feeling so beautifully in your work!
Beautiful work, Sydney, compelling and awful.
fine writing. I admire the way windmills, wheels, and hums work in this story.
Gorgeous writing and such an honest, hauntingly beautiful story. Bravo!
An extraordinary and resonant tribute!
Beautiful writing Natasha! I am touched by how deeply you were touched by the exercise. Thank you!
Am so blown away by this work- wonderful!
Thank you!
You captured so much of my experience of my fathers death that I couldn’t articulate. As always this was timely. Thank you my friend.
Thank you, dear Iman!
This is beautiful and thoughtful. Such a great use of the index form and its propensity to surprise. Thank you!
Thank you!
I just met this gentleman I pumped out his septic tank my name is Michael and he is a very kind gentlemen and I look forward to reading more about him and his works have a great day Mr.Alan yount thank you
Please know that I am grateful for the review. I hope that people will consider sending my book to an incarcerated person. We are aware of our common failures but not our collective successes.
Thx for the review!!!!
So, so powerful.
So beautiful. I went through this with my mom, and you capture it perfectly. Thank you.
I’m so sorry you went through this, C.I. Thank you for sharing. Deb
How brave, Sydney! Beautifully written ❤️
Beautifully written!
So intense and moving. Thank you for writing so powerfully and honestly. We all have emotions caught up in watching loved ones die, or fearing the future for ourselves as well as partners or family or friends, and this opens up a space for thought and contemplation. A lovely tribute to your father!
Thank you for your kind words, Mary Jane!
Margaret Merrill
September 11 2024
The slow loss of a mother to dementia is brilliantly and unselfishly charted, quietly dazzling, a work of art in this lovely narrative.
Margaret, thank you so much for your kind words. Deb
Beautiful and heartbreaking, Sydney.
So beautiful. Just what I needed to read today.
Betsy, ❤️.
What a powerful piece, gorgeously told. So resonate. I appreciate this writer’s generosity in sharing it.
Joni, Thank you for your generous praise and for letting me know it resonates. Deb
Wow, this is really gripping from the first sentence. Well done.
Beautiful and clever. When I read the other comments I realized I had thought that the radish story was not about the radishes, but now I know it very much must be, like a waiter recommending what to try more than an artist wondering who she is, like the way Da Vinci’s Last Supper was a map of where to place the silverware. One radish has one calorie. Did you know? It does.
I apprrciate your honesty. I did not realize the depth of pain of an adoptee. Thank you for making me more aware.
Heartbreaking. Two people make a circle together when they embrace?
I stuffed the book into a drawer in my bedroom and never looked at it again.
‘I stuffed the book into a drawer in my bedroom and never looked at it again…’
Surely the book was the key to understanding the cryptic message? A book that as an English teacher she knew said more than she could in that moment?
As you say, easily (and understandably) interpreted as insensitive and unhelpful to a 17 year old, but maybe also a compliment to what she recognised was a depth and emerging love of literature in you.
Would love to know what the book was that she seemed appropriate at that moment.
“Did the book have a tree on the cover? Do you remember the title?”…
Something by t s eliot?
Well written. I enjoyed this story, even though I don’t enjoy radishes, but this story made me want to eat one anyway.
Powerful! Look forward to the memoir.
Beautiful story. I could feel your love and respect for David and the pain of people’s lack of understanding around you. I also had close relationships with music teachers as a teen and a few were men like David who died too young. Thank you for sharing.
So authentic and powerful! I also have a kid with physical challenges and can attest to the stress on marriage and overall life. This is so tender.
What a powerful piece!
Nicole,
I heard this letter on TAL this morning. This is breathtaking writing. I am so deeply sorry that this piece needed to be written, but so profoundly grateful that writing gave you a space to turn this over in your hands and examine it from every aspect, and then gather all of the boulders and shards and hard to grasp wisps of the experience into this perfect essay. Your gifts are extraordinary and I will seek other pieces of your work. I have one observation for your fortunate students. You all are in the company of someone who is both flesh and bone grounded and deeply mystical. My advice? Listen, read, question, debate, receive feedback, listen some more. Your teacher is a wellspring. My deep thanks to you for this exquisite writing.
There is so much pain in the world but you express it beautifully.
Your writing is captivating, so it leaves me deeply saddened.
Your writing draws me in. I’m consumed by your narrative and honesty. Thanks, Jane
Many congratulations!
It is real and recognizable that we don’t want to give disease a name for fear that it would mean we are recognizing its power over us .. bravo.. lovely and painful piece.
Moving and so much lovely imagery … stay strong and healthy.
The author is what is special .. not the radishes.. sometimes what is specialist not evident to the casual observer, it takes carful notice.
At least he asked for volunteers! (quite the gentleman :))
Loved the description of stroke – a clot wormed into his artery, great visual
Liked the ending with pecan pie. Pls enjoy a piece on my behalf. Cheers to your Dad!
So glad that so many decided to search for you and find you here. I’m so moved by the honesty, the vulnerability, the way your pain feels both distant and still simmering. Sharing like this is an act of courage and kindness. Thank you for moving hearts in your steady and potent way. I envy the fortunate students under your care.
Nikki, I too heard this on TAL and was so moved I had to see the original written words. I shared it with my teen daughter who encouraged me to write the story of losing her own father to a fatal gun wound (in his case however it was self-inflicted). We are passionate advocates for sensible gun control so thank you for your courage in sharing your story.
really moving story reminded me of a tragedy from when i was in highschool. the note probably had something to do with the book she gave you.
good
What a stunning piece of writing Nicole. Listening first, then reading, your use of language was gripping in a way that it manages only in its highest realization of purpose, and reminded me so much of Norman Maclean writing about the death of his brother in A River Runs Through It. Both narratives have such a powerful mystical quality struggling to grasp, express and contain the incomprehensible. Every word has infinite depth in the same way the emotional wreckage exceeds the possibility of ameliorating understanding.
Maclean is “haunted by the waters” just as you are haunted by the “circle” as used by Alice in her diagonal note.
A great, introspective response. Such a profound story.
Really great writing. I like the weaving in of the moth and your pregnancies. I could see being a longer piece, too, if you ever decided to do that.
Wow, just wow. I tuned in to WAMU mid-story today and it stopped me in my tracks. I am so sorry for all that your family has been through. Unthinkable. But I also really hope I can find more that you’ve written. You are so incredibly talented.
Dear Nicole, like others I heard your letter on TAL today. I see this was published now more than 7 years ago and hope us commenting so late is not upsetting.
I cannot imagine the heartbreak you have been going through as a young adolescent and since and just want to share your writing is captivating even for such a horrible experience.
Your students are fortunate having you as teacher; sending you good vibes from afar.
Nicole, I just heard you on This American Life. As I often do, I didn’t pay close attention at first until about the middle, then it grabbed me and hard. I had to find your written piece in order to capture all the details I had missed in my inattention. It brought me to tears by making me experience your conflicting feelings and unanswered questions.
I am here for the same reason. I turned the radio on about halfway through, and had to find the rest. This was a beautiful letter, and I hope Nicole knows it helps others find some peace in grief.
Dear Nicole,
Me too; I heard the beginning of the story on This American Life but arrived home before it was finished. I’m so sorry this happened, and I hope “mom, sister, & brother” were (are) able to move on. I like the way the paragraphs are numbered. Thank you for sharing!
Shannon – Avon, IN
The same here, Mark. I turned on the car at 17. I had to look uo the essay as soon as I got home.
This is remarkable, Nicole, and I hope you know that your words have been heard and seen.
Same here, I listen to it on a bike ride. So profound. I shared it with inmates that I mentor here in KY.
Thank you Ben, and Hippocampus. This came in perfect time frame for me with my own version of tension at home. Well crafted and beautiful..
Wow. I just stumbled across this. Your writing is beautiful. I went with willingly you into the safety of your garden, aware that one way or another, your words will break my battered heart. And sure enough. Well done. Thank you.
So beautiful. I love the sadness of it all. The history woven into the story is very nice.
I appreciate the conversation tone this story is written in — you sense she is telling “you” about her dad. The details of place and interactions are both visual and emotional drawing the reader in, and building the care and pain of both dad and the “child” — beautifully written story.
“Life draining away from the same place it begins.” Beautiful!
Such a nuanced exploration of love. It’s impossible to judge anyone in this story. So very well done.
I come back to this piece once in a while, at this point it has to be one of my favorite’s pieces.
Heartbreaking and beautiful – thanks for sharing with us, AV.
I love how you carried the flower theme throughout the piece, imbuing it with decades of emotions about your mother.
So good.
A very moving story, AV. Thank you.
Beautifully written. The struggle is so real and vivid. I also see Jack as a hero because of his patience, hope, and commitment.
This is great. Very touching.
This gentleman wants to die; he is ready. His family wants him to die, but they can only comfort him along the slow, painful road toward his death. This is an American tragedy, at least in the majority of this country where it remains a crime to help a loved one find a calming end to their once wonderful, productive, loving life. Let’s remove the specious arguments of the medical and health care industries, and religious institutions, who profit from the barbaric procedures of maintaining life at all costs, and instead provide relief to the suffering among those who want to die, and their families who would help them fulfill their dying wish, if only it weren’t for the law that would prosecute them as criminals if they did.
Excellent. Lightning bugs are in my childhood memory too. We caught them in jars then let them go. Good to see your writing here, Tom. Your class at Seaview was great.
I just sent this to my sister—it really resonates with me. The first time my children saw lightning bugs was at her house in Austin. We haven’t seen them there in years now, and our children are in their 30s.
Nice! Made me want to eat a raddish though i dont really like them
Such a beautiful depiction of birth and also of the heart of those adopted. I adopted an 11year old boy, and he has lamented his losses for decades now. We can say “we chose you” but the abandonment never loses its sting. They long to attach to their mother, their DNA, their roots. We are substitutes, lesser than, trying to stand in the gap that is just too wide, too deep.
We adopted 3 boys ages 9, 5 and 1 at the time of adoption. I agree with you wholeheartedly. No matter how much we love them, we are only substitutes. It is very heartbreaking for both the kids and the adoptive parents. You dive into adoption with your whole heart thinking they will be YOUR children, however as you stated so honestly, “the gap is just too wide, too deep.”
I really appreciate you sharing your experience.
There’s no shortage of fireflies where I live in rural Virginia. My grandson watched them in awe from the swingset in our back yard. They still hold a magical presence for me, a memory of the child I used to be.
This story left me in slack-jaw silence.
“I feel like the melted chocolate in the middle of a fresh-baked croissant” had me spellbound. I am saddend for Addie’s seizures, for the emptiness in the marriage, but I applaud the strength of this man.
This is not emptiness .. this is marriage, worth , and reality.. and yes it takes strength to deal and not scream…
I love the imagery in your story. I was moved!
Hi! Annie here with a p.s. Since submitting the above info I’m thrilled to have 2 more pubs: “My Inner Ms. Natural Fought with the Mirror; The Mirror Won,” Next Avenue, January 11, 2024, https://www.nextavenue.org/my-inner-natural-mirror-won/; and
“Telling an Emotional Truth,” The Writer’s Center Magazine, winter-spring 2024, 37-38, https://writer.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/12/TWC-Magazine_WISP2024_final_web.pdf. More info available at http://www.annierehill.com.
This is lovely, Shannon.
My highest recognition for you, my dear friend. I hope we meet up again soon!
Beautiful, thank you!
I believe Brian Lee Knopp is the best writer I’ve been lucky to know – and I’ve met a lot!
“the fumes of the underworld…” I too can relate to leaving those fumes behind and enjoying life again. Thanks for this evocative essay.
I relate to this! Great read.
I really enjoyed this interview, Dorothy. Well done. Your full interview disproved the author’s dispiriting comments on her life being “boring,” and concluding “It has been [interesting] to me, but I can’t imagine it would be to anyone else.” The author has clearly been immensely successful in a wide variety of genres.
Thanks so much for reading and commenting Marilyn and I couldn’t agree more!
Brutally frank and so supports other struggling writers and gives them hope.
Hindu mythology makes two parts of Self: one that does and the other just watches. Your ego and spirit are similar.
Hats off to you for your daily writing habit.
I read somewhere that “a writer writes.” Often that is enough for me, but not always. As a teacher and writer who also longs for the validation and audience that publication of a book seems to promise, I relate to your story. And, as you explained so well, I also feel that the joy of writing is really what matters most. I hope you get a book published soon!
This is my favorite part: “Coyote’s laugh echoed from the Iowa we’d come from, from the Montana we were going toward, ricocheting off the Bighorn Mountains in waves of bitter medicine. We stood on the edge of our marriage and assured each other we would be okay.” It’s the transition place, and it ties the whole story together. The trip wasn’t what you planned, but Coyote’s laugh came along and got you through all the mishaps of life and marriage. I love it!
I am breathless after reading The Last Ride. Your expression of emotion felt sparkling to me. My best friend of over 40 years has cancer. In seven places in her body. She is moving on, living her life as if she were well and crazy the way we used to be together. She holds my life story within herself. I hope you won’t mind but I have absorbed your friend’s goal to live with a peaceful heart. Brava, Carol. Brava.
Hi Leslie
I’m so sorry about your friend and the sadness of being a witness to that kind of pain. It takes so much courage to live while you are dying and to walk that journey with one you love to the end. My heart is with you. Thank you for sharing.
Found this by accident while searching for information about an accident that happened in Windber. As someone who mostly grew up in Windber (born and lived in Johnstown from 1979 till 1985…lived in Windber till the early 2000s) this definitely tracks.
Pilot Precise V5 pens are awesome.
What an editing job? You are the best.
Melissa!!! What a beautiful inspired and inspiring piece. So happy for you!
This is beautiful, heartbreaking, soaring writing. I lost a good friend too soon to brain cancer. This piece spoke to me in so many ways. A wonderful remembrance of a wonderful friendship.
Hi Brad
Thank you so much for sharing the story of your friend. It is so hard to lose one so essential to your sense of being known and seen and loved. I am so sorry for your loss. Thank you for your kind words,
Thank you so much Melissa for this beautiful tribute to Jeannine.
Thanks for reading. You can do it!
Love this piece! Thank you for sharing. Beautiful writing.
Similar to above, I am submitting at 8 pm PST. Please UN-submit me if I am too late.
Gorgeous writing. I loved the visual of the door shrinking and this line – “We became an island of three.” ❤️
Beautifully written, elegance hidden in simplicity.
Dear Doug
Thank you so much for your feedback. It means so much and it feels like an honoring of Mauree to know that others can feel the power of this special friendship. I hope you have a friend like that too.
Excellent, I love it!
A vulnerable insight into the fear & hesitation that our cultures create for my gay friends.
What a lovely touching story of the memory priestess & your 44 year relationship. The tenderness of your review of that friendship (and I suspect love story) tell me why you don’t want or need a reboot or perfection in the future. You just desire the best of the 44 years to sail into the future. And BTW, I enjoyed your bio. Especially your goal to live with a peaceful heart.
Hi Rhonda
Thank you so much for your thoughtful feedback. I think the reason I didn’t want a reboot, was in the tradition of the “Memory Priest” once that person was killed, all of their memories went away. After 44 years, I could see the beauty of the whole of our friendship — our deep connection, our arguments, our laughter, our tears– all of it is what made it so special and we KNEW we would never leave each other. Therefore, I wouldn’t want to sacrifice the whole for a new chance to be “perfect.” Our friendship was already perfect in its wholeness.
Hi again, Leslie – Carol here
I misread your statement and thought you’d asked why I didn’t need a reboot when you were saying you could understand why I didn’t. So you can ignore my explanation. Thanks again for writing your thoughtful message . Carol
Thank you for sharing this most intimate and difficult moment. God bless you and your children!
Beautiful and heartbreaking. I’m so glad you found the strength to leave!
I read my Dad’s autopsy report, I still didn’t know what he died of. I put it in the filing cabinet. I pulled it out last year and sent it to a friend. It was a dead thyroid. Mine was 90% dead, just discovered in 2029. He died on Father’s Day 1985. Mine was discovered 2019 after 5 years of being told nothing was wrong with me. A chill ran through me when I made the connection because he always said you are kind of kid who questions everything and that will get you through life. I wish he would have fought harder.
Yes, enjoyed this very much, Kristen! Interested in how much reading in bathtubs is going on — sounds so relaxing. And my favorite sentence of his is probably: “We are all like fish in a forest, flopping around.” If this is true, then it makes perfect sense why we’d prefer to linger in a bathtub.
A remarkable short, wow!
Brilliant and poignant
What a sensitive interview. Thanks to both of you for introducing me to an author and a book I want to know more about.
Wonderful piece on that oh so scary marketing part of writing. Thanks for sharing useful information as well as encouraging writers to reach for the rewards of connecting with new people
Love the details in this peice — I can see her, and you too. Thanks for sharing.
“Like kernels in a hot pan”– Excellent!
Wow. Riveting. Fantastic read. So pared down. Congratulations!
You always amaze me Sabena. Thank you for sharing in such a vivid and perfect way. I am so moved.
Lovely piece, Lisa. Well done!
I love the combination of cultural references with a breathless, moment-by-moment sequence of events. Great job!
My daughter was twice lost and neither time did I get say goodbye
Dear Jeanne–This piece is just so skillful and moving. Every word from title to closing keeps the narrative building and shifting. Beautifully done.
Cheers,
Mimi
Thanks so much, Mimi!
Broke my heart like only the most beautiful prose can. Thank you for this piece, Melanie!
Powerful prose. Great job, Abby!
Brilliant flash essay! Love it. So well-done. Congratulations!
Thanks so much, Bella!
Love this conversation, Kristen! I bought the book and can’t wait to dig into it! Especially love this line: ….”writers are going in search of themselves. They want to run their experiences through the combine of their imagination.” What a great phrase!
Stunning and beautifully, honestly written.
Beautiful.
Gah, so gorgeous and so important. We don’t allow for the proper mourning for our chosen family members, like her. What a tribute. I miss her now too. xo
I married at 18. He was 42 and a psychiatric nurse in the hospital I was residing in. Well, before they fired him. Our marrraige lasted two months over one thousand miles from my hometown. I have no regrets about that relationship.
Wow, well written.
This is such a wonderful write up. I must say that you are a genius, keep it up.
Great tension Abby, love this.
Thank you!
I know this story from your daughter’s view. Good writing.
I loved this – especially how it started out somewhere near the absurd and then grounded itself in something very real. Vonnegut would be proud.
I felt this with all of my being. Thank you for writing it. 💕
My God! This is how it is! Never imagined these things. Thank you, Luke.
Hi, I just read Alice’s book and would love to write her an email. Do you have any contact information for her?
Wow, thank you for sharing this. I loved the part about the “this is for the birds” then realizing it was meant literally. And of course the central part of the story about Willy was amazing and moving. How he actually came down and put his arms around you. We aren’t so separate as some like to think. I’m glad that happened. Also, through this retelling, I was able to feel the sadness that he died alone without his community. Thank you again for sharing.
Thank you, Erik. I’m glad you caught the humor in the interaction with woman who prepared all the food for the zoo. Telling Willy’s story was a powerful experience, especially with the perspective I have now.
Powerfully written. Very relatable moment captured. Laurie, just wow.
Wow! It pulls at your heartstrings.
I loved this!
I loved this story. I was with her every moment. So lovely.
OMG! So touching and painful. I want to hug the little girl. A beautiful story.
Beautifully written. So much packed in this small story. I could relate even though I’ve never been hungry.
What a beautiful and beautifully written story about a rare connection. I can’t stop thinking about it!
Thank you, Beth, for a masterful and emotion-packed story. I love the many details you provide about your daily routines as a young zookeeper, the behavior of the animals, and especially about Willy’s evolving interactions with you. You befriended him and he came to trust you. Beautiful story. A gift to us all.
I missed the last Short Shorts/Micro Memoir deadline, but I’m interested! Will there be another contest?
Beautifully written. Somehow you have given words to the myriad of struggles and feelings we encounter in our household. Thank you Luke for your honest and all-too-touching representation of these silent battles. I’m proud to be your colleague.
I just wanted to say I’m absolutely in love with this piece of writing and it’s one of the best pieces of writing I’ve read in a while. I really felt like I was the performer with the guitar. I disagree with the other commenters, I think the CD idea adds a nice, fun detail.
A gorgeous and revealing story…and so heartfelt! As a child my younger brother and I used to “rock” back & forth in bed and on the couch to relax and fall asleep…often humming or singing a mantra! I didn’t sleep over at a friend’s house until my teens as I was convinced I could not fall asleep without rocking. I overcame it but it was pure relaxation and contentment during my childhood! A revealing, important story!
Lovely, lovely piece. thanks you.
thank you for this…it’s very relatable for me
A very tender story, Beth! I had no idea of your experiences working at Mesker Park Zoo with Willy. Your ability to share such an impactful experience is impressive. Good job!
How very heart wrenching to read! At the same time, the stragies he uses to help himself are so bold and daring!
His strength and determination are daunting!
Beth, I loved your story about Willy and the connection you made with him. I have shared the story with my family so they can enjoy it too.
Thank you, Sheila, for your note and for sharing Willy’s story. The experience stayed with me for decades.
Very Nice
So sad, but Willy decided to embrace you and your love and concern for him. Must have felt like you were a mother figure to him. At least you both felt a goodness in each other. Sad, but at least you two had your moments together. Love it. Great story.
Thank you, Linda, for your insights. The interaction was profound and recalling it still affects me. All the best! — Beth
Thank you Beth… such a good, well told story. I was in tears for parts of it.
This is such a touching and bittersweet story. I teared up as I read it. Thank you so much for sharing!
Oh, dear Beth. Thank you for sharing your story of, and tender relationship with Willy. Your exquisite writing brought me so close I felt as if I was experiencing all of this wonder along with you.
With gratitude and love.💕
Suzanne
Hearing from readers means a lot to me. Thank you, Suzanne.
So aptly put. Beth’s exquisite writing brought me to tears for both Beth and Willy. What a wonderful storyteller Beth is.
Thank you, Beth, for your powerful storytelling. It brought me to tears.
Thank you, Sarah, for your note. I so appreciate hearing from readers.
Beautifully told. I am in tears. Poor sweet Willy. Love your story, Beth.
What a sad but beautiful story about the strikingly ‘human’ connection primates can have with one another
A beautiful essay. Thank you.
Had me from the sheep in the pond forward. Descriptions of character and scene superb. Ending a great surprise.
Not recommended for relaxed, bedtime reading. This piece kept me wide awake, cracking me up with unforgettable characters wrapped in the scents and sounds of barnyard chaos. Awesome read!
Yes, I agree with the above. Cut the CD. They would not kiss as well if you were not singing. Just remember that.
Touching and compassionate details. The Minimum.
I’ll never see a stack of dipping bowls the same! Beautiful and touching!
Thank you for writing this beautiful tribute to your friend and the friendship you shared. It reminds me so much of my own dear friend who died at 49, leaving me to miss her and the ease we had between us. Gone now for 25 years, but still deeply remembered.
Great read! The writing drew me right in and put me with the writer in the scene.
Brian Lee Knopp grabbed my attention at the beginning of this story and didn’t let go till the final “nope”. Hilarious, insightful and the introduction of an unforgettable character and situation has me wanting more from this author. Thank you!
Such a lovely, heartbreaking story. Really nicely written.
You have made something beautiful and astonishing of your pain.
This was so touching. Thank you.
Very good, very good. THANK YOU!
Love it! I could feel it, I could see it, I could hear it. I’m the lady in the corner, tapping my foot, clapping my hands after every song. Cut the CD.
I never knew…Oh, the things we hide from others. A revelatory piece of writing.
Really appreciated this piece. I always rush to send things out – bad habit – and then boom – I see the errors. Thank you for reminding me to slow down.
A stunning, important piece. Congrats, Judy!!
Incredible! Love his writing style!
What an absolutely beautiful tribute to the decades long love you have for your dear friend. Holding you in your grieving. Thank you for sharing.
What a beautiful friendship. I’m so sorry for your loss. And I thank you for touching something in me that I had forgotten. I need to call a certain friend…
Beautifully written Judy!
I read this knowing I shouldn’t. It’s good. So good. And it hurts so much.
Leah, I inhaled your story in what felt like a single breath. In so few words (and no periods, which worked!), you brought me into that dentist chair and let me experience Daniel’s gentle optimism and your parenting angst. Such a powerful and relatable story!
A gorgeous introduction to both beautiful work and a thoughtful interview. Thank you!
You really make me want to save that poor boy, and wonder- at the same- if the duress did eventually serve him or hinder him- all while elegantly painting experience so I experience it concurrently. Beautifully written, haunting.
Thanks, Shane.
Amazing piece. So vivid, and the tone and details are perfect for the age and situation. Congratulations.
Thanks so much, Brett! That’s wonderful to hear as I was trying hard to capture the right tone and details.
Cathy
Paige, you’re a gifted young lady. I agree with all the other comments.
That was well written, heart warming, & heart wrenching. I cried alot!
Brought me to tears. Loved this.
Our kind and empathetic MA introduced us to your book by saying she was in recovery and her story was in your book. Very powerful book and amazing to hear she is now taking on a new grant position working with people dealing with substance issues. She has indeed helped more than one other!
Is there any way to submit a PDF file? My flash has an incorporated illustration. Thanks.
It’s every writer’s dream to receive comments such as these. Thank you!
Cathy Mellett
My best friend’s son also died this way. You have put her feelings into words for her. Thank you
Thanks for this! I was drawn to read your essay since I am a 5’1″-er…and my youthful experiences (including your menstrual story and the scoliosis are exactly what I remember!) I loved your professional anecdotes as well. Though I’m a 50-something English prof, I’m usually the smallest in the room too.
“Though she be but little she is fierce”! Thanks again.
Finally after reading THIS, I get it! SHOW not just TELL. I never understood this, though people have written those words when critiquing my words. I’ve felt like such a blockhead and almost gave up writing my memoir. Thank YOU for renewing faith in myself. I am so grateful. I am a 76 year old female senior citizen that has to get crackin on her book.
Hello DJ, thanks so much, that is the highest of compliments.
A very gripping and tragic story. It is painful to read because you make it so real.
Thank you, Jane! That means a lot!
Cathy Mellett
Excellent review.
This piece came at exactly the right time, as I put the finishing touches on a microessay about the last Valentine’s Day spent with my mum before her passing. Your excellent pointers and examples helped me nail the final sentence I’d been agonizing over. Thank you!
This is beautiful, Leah, I hear your voice through and true, and just wow <3 You are an amazing mom and woman and a gorgeous writer. <3
Perfectly described. I tried acupuncture a couple of times for my chronic migraines – (we’ll try anything right – even becoming a tomato-shaped pincushion) – but it didn’t do anything other than trigger a migraine both times. Here’s hoping someone clever invents something perfect soon… until then – keep writing 🙂
Anne,
Your story was great- I discovered that you are an incredibly ambitious 5″2′ woman & like a stadiometer, I never fall short of the truth.
If I didn’t know better I’d say that I hair stood straight up the entire time it took me to read your story.
Thank you, Ingeborg! I appreciate your feedback!
This is a marvelously, entertaining and interesting essay. The author weaves together comments on power and size, in a funny and provocative way, that makes you laugh and think at the same time. Not a word in this nimble essay is wasted. It’s simply wonderfully- short.
Ugh this was SUCH an amazing read! I have chills
Callie’s story pulled me in and would not let me go. Powerful and relatable!
Wow
Page you had me in tears. I am
So glad I got to meet Tiny have him take hay from my hands. Such a gentle giant. So loved it showed. Rod and I feel Blessed to have you and Jessie in our lives even if it was to save his truck. lol. See you soon
Carol
A diamond of an essay both in form and content. Brave. Beautiful. Wonderful to gather here and feel real. I’m so excited to read more of your work in public spaces.
The setup was skillful. The stream of consciousness style was perfect. The desperateness and responsibility that every mother feels when things go wrong was painful, just as you would wish. Well done!
i loved reading your words and the style of stringing them all together. i was engaged from word one to the finish! you go girl!!!
Paige, this was beautiful and so touched my heart. I have loved and lost horses. They give of themselves so generously in every way we ask, yet never lose that remarkable sense of self. Through it all, they love us and stand by us. You portrayed that perfectly in this piece. I look forward to reading your memoir some day.
Thank you so much for your kind words Susan, they really are beautiful creatures ❤️
Wow! This took my breath away! Just beautiful.
Thank you! Honored that you took the time to read the story and share your kind words.
Oh Leah! I’m familiar with the calling forth of the courage to share your work and am so glad that you are! Keep being brave and telling your story – the world needs it!! ❤️❤️❤️
I held my breath through the reading until the tears. What mother, or dental patient for that matter, hasn’t felt such honest pain? I love your writing, my friend!
Leah! I’m so touched and impressed with your work! I love your voice and style! Warm and easy to connect with. Bravo! Congratulations! Looking forward to reading more! ( I don’t know why, but I woke up thinking of you and here you are!)
Beautiful Leah! I can feel your heart in each word. Keep sharing with us please and thank you❤️
Wow, I’m blown away by this story. It is so powerful.
Thanks so much, Leah! This is the kind of comment that his music to every writer’s ears!
Cathy Mellett
Congratulations, Leah! What a wonderful piece–so strong, so rhythmic, and full of heart.
I am touched by this piece ❤️
It’s relatable ❤️
💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙
I was completely absorbed and really touched by this story You are a wonderful Mother and a great writer.
💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚and now I love Daniel too!! Enjoyed this piece Leah, I could hear your voice throughout….. loved the use of the comma, it’s a skill! The best most diligent mum I know!! 🥰
Thank you Caro, I really appreciate your feedback!
I started reading this, and stopped at “my fucked up teeth,” and laughed out loud, and I turned to my wife Carole and said I’m reading this piece written by my high school friend Leah, and she said, “She has a pretty smile,” cause I showed her your picture, and I said, “Yes,” and added you are one of the kindest ever, and I read Carole that first sentence, and well, don’t you know, I came to the end of that sentence, and I smiled, and Carole said, “I love it,” and I said, “Me, too,” and so thank you, Leah, this was awesome, and please please keep writing. XO
This looks cool, I’ve got a few solid flash cnf pieces that might be a good fit. Looking forward to February!
Very engaging piece of writing.
Beautiful both/and. ❤️
Love this essay. Happy to be introduced to a new author to follow. I also am a former prosecutor, although in a less glamorous position than the US Attorney’s office in Manhattan. I’m currently writing a memoir about childhood trauma but would like to figure out next how to interweave the creative with my professional experiences. As a young attorney, I was roped into, by a senior partner, defending a serial killer and appearing doing so on national television. I’d like to write about that. Your writing, which successfully and artfully combines the personal and professional, is instructive.
Thought provoking
Yes. This. Thank you, Ridg; I, too, feel the burden. ♥️💔♥️
Love this so much.
My 6’7” kept from being a fighter pilot, my childhood dream, but I was too tall to be drafted to go to Viet Nam.
Impressive and believable!
To me this is a rather sad story (imperfection, intimacy, loss) but the “peanut butter” brings levity. Really lovely writing. “Just into flesh. Just into lack.”
Superb.
Thank you so much!
Cathy Mellett
Beautifully poignant. Rich and captivating. A powerful journey of decline and healing. So very well told, Paige.
Thank you so much
Is Betty still alive? Is she still married to her second husband? What is she doing?
Hello Paige. Thank you for your moving story. You needed big Tiny so your loving horse stayed for you. What a beautiful tribute and inside look at Postpartum depression. I liked how you ended with hope. May your life and your writing be blessed. All the best, Mary.
Thank you Mary, yes I certainly did need him. Thank you so much for the encouragement.
Paige
A beautiful story. Thank you so very much for writing it and sharing it with us.
Thank you so much for reading
Really beautiful. Heartwarming and written so thoughtfully.
Caryn, I am so glad you thought so. Thank you for taking the time to let me know, I appreciate it!
I love this! I’m going to use it in my Food Writing Workshop. Thanks!
Great work Cathy
Thank you so much!
This a very enjoyable, well-articulated and expressive piece of writing. Couldn’t put it down until I finished it!
Wonderful! So happy I was able to captivate your attention, Thanks Isabella
Very insightful interview. Much thanks.
brilliant, engaging, light-hearted. all with serious intent. The inherent tension Anne creates (where will she take us with this height thing?) coaxes us along, paragraph after paragraph, on a journey we never intended, with a delicious joy we didn’t expect, and a regret that it had to end.
Thank you for reading, Ed, and for your kind words –
I don’t cry. Well, hardly ever. But this? This? You have so eloquent-emotionally captured the holyness, holiness, and wholeness of life… a day in the life… a month in a life… a life in a life. I hear you. You opened a channel for me to hear all those who are without a voice, or whose voices cant articulate the sheer powerlessness of overwhelm, of clinical overload, of whatever the diagnosis is spelled out on some take-these-sheets-home and look up these links… I hear the voices through your words… and, I think that my writing hand and heart, and my mothering past, and my animal-lovingness has just heard my own sounds; and there is a melody.
Marie, thank you for taking the time to type out such a heartfelt comment. I am so happy that it resonated with you. As this is my first piece available for public viewing your words are immensely encouraging. Thank you so much
Wait!? It can’t end there! More!
Cheers! (-:
Beautiful. We’re discussing this in my writing class today!
Dear Dheepa, sorrow’s disorientation as well as the luminous hush you create with such depth and authenticity stirs my heart for your story as well as my own. Truly, memorably rendered. Well done, Dheepa!
Thoroughly enjoyed your writing— Your words artfully painted a heartfelt picture of emotions
Many thanks Cessy!
Beautifully written heartfelt story I found very moving. Great opening line.
if youre just reading her books youre probably fine but if you know this person pls be careful. this is a narcissistic sociopath who hates & blocks most members of her family. she recently tried to upset her own brother’s suicide funeral (which she refused to attend) with a series of self indulgent relentlessly self promoting letters, one of which attempted to incentivize her own mother to kill herself as well. she is not well. her career is based on joining multiple cults, & the only one she can never see is the one she is currently in.
Drivel. Bloated description and a plodding style. Inaccurate portrayal of the Appalachian experience. That this shiznit is recognized as “good” nonfiction is mind-numbing.
Definitely fits my memories of Windber in the late 80s.
Dear Angela,
I just happened across this review–which I somehow didn’t see when it was first posted back in June–and wow, thank you! I’m grateful to you for spending time with my words–even the tough ones–and for, you know, getting my sense of humor.
Here’s to holding warm bodies & feeling brave enough to fly,
Jill
Very nicely done. AIM HIGH. NO HIGHER! AND DONT WAIT.
WRITE AND FINISH AN OUTLINR OR DRAFT TODAY!
YOU GOT IT … THE IT… you got It kid.
Don’t dare waste it!
SVG
Wow. Just wow.
Such a moving story. I felt this way in Rome years after I had visited it w my dad by then deceased. Ann writes so well.
So lovely!
The current tod the language draws you in and does not let up, even after you read the final word. We’ll done!
The structure is so effective–the braiding of two threads–it makes for a moving piece.
I loved this story. Really beautifully written and subtle in all the right ways. Keep writing!
You’ve touched my heart, Molly. I’m sorry for your loss, and for Elsie’s.
It went straight to my heart.
Aching loveliness.
Powerful piece. Thank you for sharing it.
This was a touching story. I hope wherever the author is, she finds peace and happiness wherever she finds herself.
You’ve captured so much feeling here. I like it very much.
Thank you so much Linda.
Very poignant recounting of a mother’s identity through the memory of her daughter. I especially loved the repetition of scenes, what the mother must have witnessed, then what the daughter did. The daughter’s imagined scened of what her mother’s lost mind must be “seeing” on her driving by water.
Moving and generous and perfectly written.
TALK ABOUT LUCKY! That’s amazing. Just in the nick of time, those ancient Indian spirits sent that buffalo to keep you from becoming, “just meat”, to that small pack of wolves.
We can only wonder about the power from the great beyond, and how it is sometimes able to mingle with us, (down here) in our atmosphere.
This is a wonderful piece. So well laid out and economically written. You gave us just enough, to be there and nothing that would scare us out of our wits. Though the fear was indeed felt. Felt to the bone.
Aurora, is such a beautiful name. I’m trying to come up with what the nickname would be. I’ve never had a friend with that name. “Roar-a” would be the nickname I would have given you.
Loved your story, “Roarah”.
Best wishes,
Ken B.
Such an evocative piece of writing Ann – I understand the fascination of process and the half of a half of a half….. my drawing for you is still waiting in the studio – I’ll send it … but not today
Lovely and relatable–the murkiness of living in those in-between spaces and times–where we are both and neither.
Sad and hopeful. Beautifully written.
Well done! A beautiful essay, incorporating work, motherhood, growth, love, writing, hope, and more!
Wow. Every word the right one and in the right place.
Brave words— well written, thank you!
So haunting and so raw. Your story reaches out to so many other women who too grieve.
This interview was so interesting! I’m so glad I got to read it. Thank you Leslie!
This is extraordinary. What crucial work you both have done here.
Wow, what a story and what a tribute to your dad. I remember you well from our days together at Forrest Sherman High School. You did a great job in your article reminding us of the sacrifice people like your dad paid to keep our country safe. I wish you could’ve known him more.
Bruce M.
This is a powerfully enlightening interview. Thank you to Michele and Clancy for shedding light on suicide.
Thanks so much for sharing this intimate and heartwarming story. Bravo!
A real Romeo and Juliet story without all the unnecessary theatrics. Enjoyed it. And wish it upon everyone in the world.
Loved it! ❤️
So beautiful
Thank you Hannah
Lovely writing, Craig, very moving and spot on about marriage.
Bob
This is stunning and beautiful work, Molly. Thank you for being a gentle and fierce friend.
Wow! What beautiful writing! The talent you have is wonderful!
Like being transported to that place.
Thanks so much for reading and your thoughtful comment. I take that as high praise.
Brilliantly written.
Thanks so much for reading and commenting.
I think she you are harshly judgmental about Laura, Brian. He. father didn’t ‘nobly’ sacrifice true love for his family, he hid ( out of fear) and was inauthentic , he did not live a truthful life.
There is no judgement for the father -to feel that one has to sacrifice authenticity and selfhood in order to survive is a tragic and extraordinarily painful ( to put it mildly).
To suggest that Laura addressing her own very painful and confusing feelings as opposed to feeling primary compassion for dad is very cruel. you have no idea how that kind of secret can distort a young person’s life. She was the victim – like it or not- his life was his choice. hers was not.
Sarah! We were in Lisa Wells’ Orion workshop together. This is a beautiful piece. Shattering…in the way that truth always is. Thank you for sharing this rich word-soil.
I was a participant in the Schick Center for Smoking and Weight loss at the age of 12 and did lose weight but the body shaming that came with the electroshock treatments did harm to my self esteem I can’t even out into words. I’d love to find out what happened to the company and if anyone ever looked at this as child abuse.
Kompresör sektöründe lider firmayla tanışın. Profesyonel hizmetimizle size en iyisini sunuyoruz.
This made me cry. Grief is such a strange country. Thanks for your careful beautiful writing.
Great interview. I took a braided essay class with Lily in 2022 and really enjoyed it. Re. nonfiction and “level of concern about how it’s going to be received by the people in their lives.” I’d be curious about fiction. I can remember my Swedish husband reading a novel by an author who had been one of his students and feeling uncomfortable at recognizing himself. I’ve heard people say that swapping out traits from a variety of real people is part of creating believable characters. Is there a “crossing the line” in fiction too? Thoughts?
Love this. Did this. Have chronic migraines.
Lovely Jen 🥰
I went to salsa night in Al Asad one time in 2005 out of curiosity when we had an over night stay on main side. I saw two Marines fake fight over a chair that was their dance partner. They “argued” with the chair, “argued” with one another over who would get to dance with the chair. It was pretty funny to watch. I never went back. That seemed like a great ending. Also, not long after the CG in Al Anbar province stopped salsa night, fight night, all the nights. What I had heard was the the MWSS at Al Asad was not supplying base security as the mission says they are supposed to. It was, instead, Marines from 3/25 from Haditha Dam. He had said until those Marines could attend those nights, no one would get to go until the grunts had that same opportunity. All us combat arms Marines celebrated.
It was nice to read this. When I saw the title I immediately thought of Al Asad. I was glad to read this and see how it stuck out to another Marine.
Oh I had no idea. We were beat of friends in grade school and I spent many nights with her . I am sorry she struggled. Thank you for this .
Thank you so much for this piece. It’s beautiful, thoughtful, evocative, like an afterimage of your mother’s death.
Loved the rhythm and the story telling of your words. A list of life’s things. Each item said so much with so little. What a wonderful rich essay.
My mother would wiggle her toes when my sisters and I sang, “We’ll be down to getcha in a taxi, two steps we’re goin’ to h
ave a ball….:” brought back such happy memories Jeff….thank you for letting me in.
Cheers (-:
Mothers, daughters, sisters–so complicated, and yet you’ve explored that complexity with grand agility.
Thank you for this lovely piece. It took my breath away.
” I will kiss my stories goodbye and send them adrift” – How beautiful that last paragraph is . Zina, I loved reading your goals to leave behind something that someone will find…… and yes we POC have to use our voices, share our stories.
I have a feeling it didn’t work. Oh well. At least you got a great essay out of it.
It’s worth a shot. Thank you!
This is perfect! Wonderfully funny and strangely beautiful. Thank you for this!
Thank you!
Great review. Will run to read this story that is so creatively expressed.
What a powerful piece. I know Brittany’s family and I am excited about her soon to be released memoir, Hell If You Don’t Change Your Ways. Congrats on all you’ve achieved thus far! All the best.
One of my favorite books in both its adventurous form and its content. I read it in one sitting and would do so again and again. This beautiful review really captured its essence.
What an outstanding piece. Love and regret and pain all mushed together–we unwrap it and there it is, memory, freshly shorn.
It is amazing the content of such a short read. The more I read the more I wanted to read. Anxiously anticipating more from you. Amazing read, Zina!
Poetic and graceful. I find myself wanting more. Best wishes!
To me this was such a compassionate and sharply observed picture of how the love between mothers and daughters and between sisters isn’t always fair in the way it’s given or taken but can be mediated by regret or grief, or even envy. That love is still real though—I think this came through.
Zina,
OMG…is this the finished piece? It seems like there is more of this piece coming. I Enjoyed!
Yes Indeed ,OMG- First I give thanks for this Amazing Lady, She soars,roars, she gets it done. I’m So so Proud of you making big moves, doing big things- I so enjoyed this, and it leaves Me wanting more- That’s when you know!!!!… May God Continue to bless you In ALL you do Zina. One Love❤️ Keep it Coming.
Dear Zina, i loved reading your piece on writing. I look forward to your forthcoming autobiography. I can even hear you reading it and this gives it a greater force in my mind as a reader. Keep it up.
Immensely useful for a writer who starts writing.
Thank you! I offer more craft advice on my substack https://estelleserasmus.substack.com
Wow! That was an awesome read! It is amazing how much I can relate to what you wrote. I can hardly wait for your next blessing!
Zina, awesome job! I’m looking forward to reading more of your work.
In the short amount of time it took me to read this I was transported to a place of calm and serenity. Your writing is so vivid. I can’t wait for your short story!
Zina, I’m so excited for you and cannot wait to read your upcoming work. I am especially excited to read your autobiography about your military journey. Beautiful writing.
Zina! Your writing takes the reader in and allows him/her to feel the undulation of the waves in your mind and movement. Looking forward to reading more of your work!
A wonderful review, Lisa. I enjoyed this memoir too.
This was so colorful to read! I could see every word! Beautiful writing!!
So authentic! I feel you riding the waves and coming back with your book. Can’t wait to read it!
The words that need to be heard. I can’t wait for the autobiography!
I like this creative thinking “ways crashing”! I want more!
Excuse me we’re saying this, You have mother’s snip-it but not grandmother (you’ll get there) creative thoughts becomes reality; say what you mean in the moment.
Ahhhh. Sigh. Gorgeous.
Gorgeous work, Ryder!
Gorgeous work, Ryder! I can feel your relationship with your father and with this land.
Beaitiful. When Jeffrey’s mother rouses to “Under the Boardwalk,” I’m remeinded of a hospice patient who hadn’r spoken or opened her eyes in days but mouthed the words as volunteers sang a Christmas carol at her bedside.
Very nice. I can feel the early morning and the “delicate and hectic” movement of birds, as well as all the memories.
This was a fantastic read. Thank you so much for your vulnerability.
Your words captured eloquently the care you had for your mother, and the care she had for you. You can feel that kind of love go deep in the soul, as obvious as sun going down.
I felt like I was there. This brought back memories of being in the Army working as a psychiatric specialist during Viet Nam 1971-1973 at Walter Reed Army Hospital. There was life and death all around me, suffering beyond understanding. All that could be done was to be there for them in any way that felt right. I could feel your fear and pain for too have been in your skin.
Written from the heart, yet in such an informative and amusing way. Certainly gives me pause from feeling miserable about the unfortunate loss of my testicles. Kinda makes me want to tell myself to grow a pair.
Beautifully written story from this talented author.
Wow, Louise, what a mind-blowing journey. Your essay is beautifully written, darkly funny, and heart-wrenching. Wishing you well.
Magnifique texte que je vies de découvrir grâce à “L’Intimiste”. Merci !
I love this, Tamara! I’m forwarding your terrific advice to friends as soon as I finish writing this comment. Thanks for the shout out, you da bomb! xx
Well written Krishna. Bring on more. The universality of suffering – very moving and in so few words !
Lovely and heartbreaking.
I love this hermit crab essay! What a clever and humorous approach to a complex and hard experience. I just wish that the multiple choice answers (which are labeled as 1, 2, 3, 4) would match the language in the text (i.e. “Answer C, of course they all must go.” “Answer C, but they really mean D.” etc.)
Me too. It’s how it was written, but seems like formatting got messed up in publication:-/
Have you reached out to your editor? I bet they can fix it.
Meghan (and Louise!) – Thank you so much for reading. And you are absolutely correct! This was a quirk with the WordPress formatting when we input the content during production! We’re so sorry for this snafu; it’s something we should have caught during QA, especially since the form is what makes this essay. It’s been fixed to match the author’s original draft and intent! Thank you for commenting and for your grace. 🙂
I’m so glad to hear this.
I love the breathlessness of this story–its tempo–the way it lingers for just a moment and in the next leaps across time. Reading it a few times, I tried to figure out how Ms. Miller created this breathlessness and came away with one word she uses twice: Pfft. The tempo of the syntax is driven by cars and a bus, Miller’s non human protagonists. This is without a doubt my favorite coming of age story!
If coming of age in my home country of West Germany took place by way of bikes and street cars and trains, in rural North America childhood was ended by (and in) private cars. (The song about American Pie, the Chevy & the Levy tells a tragic story about it.)
In many ways the condition of the Chevy Galaxy works like a metaphor for the kid’s feelings about his relationship to his older brother. It’s broken and needs repair; it disappears entirely; reappears and needs fixing again; till finally, it will be replaced by a dream car, a new Buick. This promise of a closer relationship is in the boy’s imagination, a vision that he sees in the future; a dream of a relationship with his grown up, soon to be married, brother that actually works.
But such a mechanical summary does no justice to the lyrical way Ms. Miller tells a story about a boy’s longing for closeness to his older brother. This is a fabulously crafted story and I can’t wait to read other stories by Ms. Miller.
Thank you, Ingeborg, for your kind comments on my story. Laila
I loved reading this! Menopause sucks for all but especially shitty at your age.
So, so beautifully written. Please write more. Keep submitting pieces ready for publication so that I can read them with my hazel eyes while sitting on my sofa in the room with two cats. — 73-year-old woman in Massachusetts
ha ha ha great!
Wonderful! I love how you interspersed the experience in the room with your memories of your Dad and thoughts about your own fathering.
Beautifully written. Such a mikafo stick build up. I think I held my breath for the duration. Scared silly like the character & then boom! A silly piece of fuzz. Exhaling at last…
Agreed. And I love the last line.
Such a beautiful, poignant story. It reminded me so much of the last days of my own mother’s life. I even have a bowl story similar to yours. Only I was an adult when I broke it.
Many thanks for this lovely work of art.
I have not had Covid, but I might as well have. I am losing strength from inactivity. I know I need to move more, but here I sit.
Sometimes our bodies know what we need. Give yourself grace.
What a beautifully written account of such raw emotions and heartbreaking reality. I am still weeping after reading this. To have such a deep love and know you will lose it is incomprehensible. Having known such joy in a marriage and accepting the reality that it must end is truly devastating. I witnessed it with my sister who lost her husband to a terminal illness. Sending healing thoughts to you…🙏🏻
Wonderful review!
I agree, Ann. This reviewer picked up on themes and nuance that had not been highlighted before. Thanks for reading and commenting!
This is fantastic! Thank you!
Thanks so much, Kris!
So gutty AND soft. You are a bold writer and (your story is) an amazing share.
Great review. I can see why you might get a little choked up when reading it.
I’m so grateful that you took the time to read this and comment. Thank you!
Great review my friend !
Thanks for reading this review and for your wonderful support!
wonderful review! Grateful the book just arrived so I can dive in and read!
It’s perfect timing!! Thanks for reading and commenting, Cathy!
A great review of this important book.
This is a supreme compliment from an incredibly talented writer. Thanks!
I love the energy in this piece. Thanks!
Thank you so much, Elisabetta!
You are welcome!
I saw this and I felt it, all of it. Thank you for such a beautiful piece!
Love your sense of humor and wry wisdom, inherited from wonderful parents, perhaps.
Great questions—and answers. Morgan’s book is a fascinating look at a family’s process with life-threatening illnesses, emotional turmoil, loss and resilience.
Well done, Louise Bell. I’m sorry you had to go through all of this. You’re a wonderful writer.
I love this piece Syrah. I especially like the repetition here– I could live like this… I could listen… I could listen… The pacing is marvelous in this essay. Congrats!
Beautifully written. Thank you
You can reach me at skatekey@ prodigy dot net
Tommorow I have an exam for this story as a part of creative non fiction
Better luck next time🤙🏻
very riyal akhil
Wow! I am thrilled to read this beautiful essay and revel in your gift of words again. Long time reader and lover of all three of your books. I met you once, at a book club reading in St Paul. You are as lovely as your writing. Keep shining, Jonathan!
Oh! Heartbreaking!
I wrote some letters
to your mom. They form words. None
of them read today.
I love this so much. I’m going to use it in my food writing CNF class. ❤️
I loved everything about this.
This is a beautiful piece. A lovely look at the efforts of a daughter who regrets not a single act of love shown to her mother.
Great story.
Your story moved me beyond anything in a long long while. So rich and brittle and fat-thin and strong at the same time. And your writing convinces me that love exists outside the bathtub, too.
Your tribute is heart rending and even though full of pathos not a bit sentimental. I had to go back to your first sentence to get the full tragedy of his life. Erased twice. Just beautiful writing — will look for other stories by you!
I love the way you relate the island’s history to yours — great structural device! I don’t mind telling you that I had some (minor) belly responses to your ordeal. Fabulous story telling!
Love this. Each of my many notebooks is jealous of the other!
Thank you, Jason, for humanizing Sleepy’s life. No one knows why he chose a sad path. Bless you for having compassion and gratitude. We need more writers like you.
Carol,. Quite an inspired piece as I found myself , introspectively recalling images, situations sometimes loosing but eventually winning. And like standing in front a slot machine I too found my self struggling to let go of the handle knowing three 🍒 await , to sate my certainty.of a win….eventually!
Thank you again for that great.composition.
Hamburgers anyone?
Dave’s heart, you and your tub, the views—-all of it pulled me in. That’s what good writing does.
I felt all of this. I’m sorry you had the experience to write it, though.
So beautifully written! I love the personalized, story-like feel.
Such a moving story, thank you.
Touching! especialy for an ophthalmologist
Trish’s writing is so evocative. Her prose takes you right into the kitchen. I felt the cold on my face from the open fridge door.
Such a great conversation between two of my favorite memoirists. I found myself nodding in agreement as i read. Looking forward to spending time with both of you soon!
Loved this interview. The conversation about the nuances and challenges of memoir. 💛
I loved this 🙂 it made me smile. Beautiful.
I related too much to this one. Beautiful and powerful story. Thank you for writing and sharing it.
“…it is possible to take care of yourself and not only survive, but thrive.” Never easy and sometimes awkward, but yeeessss. Wonderful interview.
Carol, Love this essay. It’s upbeat, exuberant, fun and a joy to read! I can hear you saying each word and sentence. It’s You! Thanks for sharing and the uplift to my day. Debbie V
Thank you Debbie! This was fun to write!
Carol,
Love this…I like to dabble with writing, but I’m not near as talented
Thank you Deb! I’ve always enjoyed writing, and have learned so much over the last few years via Zoom writing classes.
Interesting interview!
Great interview! I enjoyed learning more about Ronit’s process.
Thank you so much for your time on this interview, Morgan. I loved talking with you.
Excellent all round!
Thank you, Sandi!
Leanne, wow! This is amazing, you are amazing! Such a real life experience. Thank you for sharing.
What an incredible story. It was so moving that I didn’t want it to end. Thank you so much for giving us a vivid snapshot of life in a trans family.
Hi Martha, Wow, thank you! I appreciate you telling me this. Warmly, Ren
Hi Vani, I appreciate your kind words. Warmly, Ren
So gorgeous the picture you paint, all of it full of color, love and life.
Am navigating my own loss to suicide of my teenaged son. I found him too. Sometimes you need somebody who gets it. I’m sorry there are others. When I get to the other side, I sure as hell hope it makes some sense.
I read this wondering how such a good heart is given such a rough life. Then my mind wanders down the rabbit hole wondering if you could talk to and live vicariously through the life and times of your asshole brother, would you take the opportunity?
So beautiful ! Love it
I always said after going thru what I did when our parents died in same yr…” I’m going to write a how to manual..”. Always have multiple cert copies of your self and partners documents. Birth certificate. Marriage cert. I bought 12 death cert. I used all but 1. And they must be certified. Which costs money.
A beautifully written piece; albeit heartbreaking. I will eat ice cream cake with you any day! Xoxox
Dad was surprised to find that each death certificate cost 20 bucks, and since he needs about 50. . . The death care industry is a complete rip off. Thank you for baring your soul and sharing, because it’s so important to make this shit known. Love you.
Thank you, Lisa. The practical side of death is a hammer that many don’t see coming. Your notes are a true guide – especially about the death certificates. The thing I most remember about my mother’s death was being in a foreign place and having to drive out in the middle of nowhere to meet a family-owned mortuary who did cremations. It felt like an audition. This was East Texas and creamation was not the accepted form of burial. I felt more judgement than compassion. “You don’t want an urn? Any urn? Then how will you transport your mother’s remains?” (By halving them and sending one box to my sister in California and one box to me in Hawai’i.). Trying not to spend money on ashes was met with downcast looks and a cool demeanour as if I was some heathen monster, some sort of evil they couldn’t get rid of fast enough. I should be ashamed, that was obvious. And here I’m running around, emotionally distraught, and trying to sort out the business end of death while my sister is sitting in the ICU with my dying mother. Mom had a living will but she was in a Baptist Hospital in East Texas. It took me 9 days to get her off of life support even though she had a living will and I had power of attorney. I kept having to debate the issue with their lawyer and counsellor while my mother’s eyes pleaded with me, grabbing at her ventilator tube with her eyes begging me to enforce her wishes. So my mother is dying and I’m evil and cheap and a potential murderer, all from those ‘here to help’. The business of death. I was not ready for it either, but ready or not…
So real. Soooo well written-your voice ❤️. Thank you Lisa.
Wonderful story full of the love, hope, protection and letting go that is parenting. Thanks for so clearly voicing it for all of us.
Hi Darryl, thank you for putting in six words (“love, hope, protection and letting go”) everything I tried to say. Warmly, Ren
Kayte says:
March 22, 2023 at 8pm
I have never been given the opportunity to “know” this fabulous writer and/or especially her heart. Thank you for exposing its’ depth with me and to the world that is privileged to read it…. And thank you for allowing me to see my beloved brother in a way that he was unable to show me…… and I thank your sweet daughter for sharing this gift to me…..
Absolutely beautiful 🌼🌺🌸
What a remarkable and beautiful piece that shows a parent’s infinite love and capacity to pave the way in unchartered territory. Thank you for writing and sharing this!
It takes a lot of bravery to share the writing assignments God has given you these past couple of years. Thanks for the tough, honest words. Judy
Beautiful writing! My heart sank at ‘That was when the lights came on.’ You put us in the room.
Loved this and wanted more!
The writing from this man is simply beautiful. The way the words flow together make the imagery of the content come alive. I was transported. I need more works from this talented author!
Just read this touching story of Chantha Nguon. Made me feel nostalgic. I served with UNICEF in Cambodia just before the Khmer Rouge takeover and closely followed the tragic events there. I reflect on my experience & feelings of Cambodia under the Khmer Rouge in my memoir book: https://amazon.com/author/kulgautam and in this article:
A practical and poignant list. Our system makes it hard to be the one left behind. Thank you for finding the fortitude to share it.
Beautiful!
Poignant story. Look. forward to reading more from you.
This essay was beautifully written. Every parent should be as devoted and understanding to their child as Ren is.. What a wonderful gift it is to have this unconditional love to give a child. Bravo Ren!!! Looking forward to more stories.
Thank you so much, Marie! I agree – every child deserves unconditional love. Warmly, Ren
Oh Jon – How good to read your words again. I still use lines from the Healing when speaking about the “calling” of birthwork. Your writing has always had a place in my heart and, even more, in my soul. This doula is one of your biggest fans.
Judith Nylander
Your writing is so strong- I felt like I was in the kitchen with you when your mom walked in. Thank you for sharing that story. Great job!!
A raw and real account of witnessing someone you love fade.
The pain and struggle of this young child is palpable. Thank you for sharing with us.
You are a gifted writer! I miss visiting with you in the back of the church sometimes. Keep shining your light!
Thank you for giving voice to that quiet/loud/angry/sad buried Self that many of us live with – so many hopes and fears! I look forward to reading more of your work.
Required reading for humans! Thanks to the author for vividly showing us what one family’s love for their trans kid looks like.
Thank you, Stacey! I appreciate your kind words. Warmly, Ren
So real and honest about the struggle of potential loss and trying to live with its inevitability. Beautiful and heart breaking at the same time.
This moved me to tears.
Wow that was a great story! Why can’t we just all love each other? That writer put her kid and their needs first 😉
BRAVO !!! For saying what needs to be said,over and over,louder and louder. for all the world to hear.
Hi Bill, What a great comment! Thank you. Warmly, Ren
Hi Sharon, Thank you so much! Warmly, Ren
Jonathan your story is indeed sunlight therapy. I liked following you back home, and I think of my cousins back in Copiah, knowing that they likely directed their negativity towards you. I particularly am glad that James predicted your future as a writer, and glad that I am one who read a couple of your books, and learned from you. So very good to hear from you, love, love, love you, and all the esteem you have gathered and shared.
The awakening of a spirit. A story that could have been lived and told a thousand times but I read it here first. Thank you Jonathan.
What an incredible story! Thank you for sharing the thoughts and feelings of your tender years, when so much can snuff out that light and sparkle so easily. I’m glad that your story now has happier days in it and the success because of your considerable talent.
What a moving and powerful story. Well done!
My grandma has Lou Gehrig’s disease, she is about 75 years old it was diagnosed 2 years ago. Right now it’s getting more difficult to live for her, because of stiff muscles she can’t even move. Riluzole and Edaravone medicines are given, but won”t give much relief. She can”t eat food without choking. I thought this might be the last stage and the medications she was given did not help at all, so I started to do alot of research on natural treatments, I was introduced to Health Natural Centre and their ALS Herbal Protocol. She started on the ALS/MND Treatment last year, her symptoms gradually diminished including her vocal cord spasm, Body Weakness and Difficulty with swallowing. Reach them at health natural centre . org , She is getting active again since starting this treatment, she is able to walk again ( down the street and back )she have also resumed exercising to strengthen muscles!! God Bless all ALS Caregivers. Stay Strong, take small moments throughout the day to thank yourself, to love your self, and pray to whatever faith, star, spiritual force you believe in and ask for strength. I can personally vouch for these remedy but you would probably need to decide what works best for you.
Absolutely beautiful work. So relatable to my life on so many levels. Thank you for writing this, thank you for sharing. Glad to have you around.
March 7, 2023
This was a very visual piece of writing weaving all the colors of life, fabric, mother, daughter, family. Thank you for sharing and taking me on a journey with you from the beginning to the end. A lovely tribute to your Mother.
Beautiful piece. Thank you.
I went through this, too. Not in quite the same way, but it took me a long time to move from noticing that I was happiest when I was writing — to noticing that I was happy ONLY when I was writing, and no other time. The problem was not the girls.
Hi Laura, as a longtime fan of your writing (and personally, too), thank you for writing in! The problem is definitely not the girls — agreed.
Thank you for this interview! I resonate with so much of what was discussed, even though my daughter’s depression did not knock her into psychosis, she turned to drugs to self medicate. As a mother, I experienced the same far, anger, loss, and determination to help someone who was “not there.” Sharing stories, I find, is the best medicine for moms.
I recently lost my mother and I found my emotions reflected beautifully, wonderfully in this writing.
Oh that first step takes so long. Lifting that 10 pound shoe and allowing it to drop 6 inches in front of you and then the nest step. What we put ourselves through before we execute. The result FREEDOM!
Thank you for Stuckness
A great metaphor!
The subject of this piece was enough to take my breath away. But then the richness and precision of the language (“the plastic dome WINCES open”), the matter-of-fact tone that comes with grief…wow. Brilliant. Thank you.
Thank you so much for taking the time to respond!
Whoa! That guy was having a bad day! Wonderful
piece , light and solid.
It flew.
PS saw your letter in P&W and had to look your published self up. Don’t stop!
My favorite lines: ” ‘You think culture is just sarees and cumin and oil wicks? No, kanna,* culture is how you see, what you value, what you remember.’ And I realize it’s true. Despite my limitations, despite the deficiencies in my knowledge and understanding, there is nevertheless a legacy built right into my own foundation, infused in my blood and bones. It shapes how I think, what I honor, what I choose to write, and how I write it.”
Notes on the Fragility of Bowls shows a rare depth of soul. It shows a courage to share existential reflections on personal life events. The images used are striking, at the same time real and symbolic. The hollowed maple burls, the coronation bowl and the clay pot, both broken and repaired, the jagged sutures and missing shard.
This moving reflection is so much more valuable that what we often hear from those caught-up in mundane trivial talk and activities. There are past and present events that we cannot control or change. There are wounds, sorrows, and tears that have left their indelible traces on life and memory. There is the image of light departing through the wounds. Can the heart keep pumping? Can the light be replenished?
Finally, we are left with the suspense of the incomplete future: “I will…”; and the shared love of the song of the white throated sparrow.
I just found this in early 2023. It is so deep and touching that I want to read it again and perhaps comment again tomorrow. TMc in Ontario
Dear Judith, this is such a lovely piece of writing. It has grabbed my heart.
Thank you so much, Wanda.
So beautiful, Joy.
Thanks so much, Diana!
This essay has me searching for words to express what has been revealed to me. Things that I have just found about you, and things I’ve just found out about me. Ah, a ringing phone to break the spell.
Thank you for reading and discovering!
Finally, a room of her own.
A long finally in coming!
Beautiful tribute to your mother & gift to your sons💌
Oh Dheepa!! This is such a lovely piece – wish it wasn’t so sad!! You are an amazing daughter, mother, wife and a great friend! ❤️
Interesting and different
This is definitely your best short story yet. I just wish it wasn’t so sad. We love you 💕
so so powerful. thank you.
thank you for sharing your life story with us!
Thank you, Trish, for reporting on my program. Honored to know that you found hope and goodness with it.
Thank you for sharing
This made me go down memory lanes when I was in the same boat as you were
So beautiful!
Dheepa, your reflections are so thoughtful and authentic and lovingly expressed.
Beautiful writing. Thank you for sharing.
Aah! So precious. ❤️
Oh my god… it’s so so touching odhina… I could visualise every scene when u read every instance you mentioned and the tears rolling down my cheek..
So very well expressed Dheepa, but so sad to read, hard to contain the emotions!
You are a fabulous writer!! Love and hugs !!
💕
you captured the fragility of life so tenderly
Beautiful Judith! You write so well!
Judith I love your story, visual, thoughtful, simply said and yet complex. Well done!
Thanks for reading, Ron
Thank you, Newton.
Thanks, Martha! Glad you enjoyed it.
A very energetic and moving vignette, really well written. I closed my website but you can find me at Jane Berger Herschlag.
Wow. That is an amazing story. What is home? And no easy answers. Thank you.
I loved your story, too. I did some dangerous things in my early twenties and luckily nothing bad happened. But doing them empowered me to do other kinds of things that weren’t physically dangerous, but scary for me, such as face classrooms full of kids as a new teacher, go for a masters degree when I didn’t even like school, train and run a marathon, and the biggest of all—face cancer. There’s always a fine line between life and death, but life is for stepping out for what we want/need even when we are afraid. I’m so sorry you don’t have your brother on earth anymore. But I bet he’s with you in spirit whenever you attempt to do something hard. Keep talking with him. He’s listening.
It is beautiful writing. I have two people I cared about who killed themselves and you do wonder what that last day was like and you are left wondering for a long long time about everything and more.
Thank you, Madeline!
Thanks, Kate!
This is so beautiful and perfect. My favorite stories are about growing up.
Lovely writing, Ann! I’m looking forward to reading your memoir!
Thanks so much, Bella. Your book (Where do you hang your hammock) really helped me get my publishing efforts into perspective.
Absolutely beautiful.
This was fascinating!
A lovely, heartfelt story and beautifully written. Nothing pretentious or forced. I enjoyed it thoroughly.
Beautiful and honest Joy. Thanks for sharing this treasure of a piece.
Thank, Hedy!
Oh, Joy! This is beautiful. Thank you for sharing the gift of your considerable talent in capturing all of the many emotions present in each of these moments.
Thank you, Lindy!
I absolutely love this beautiful piece of writing. My father was a gardener too. His hands were always warm. I remember my small cool hands warmed by his many times in my childhood and adolescence. He would have taken pleasure to did up a lily for me, just as Sayuri’s father did for her here. He was a constant in my life. Unconditional love. The images your writing evokes, “My father stands in a field of sunflowers”. “Day after day, lifting me up into daylight ” . “As he circled the bright fields”. Just gorgeous.
The writing beautifully captures the grace and challenges of a devout life! The musings on the habit are especially engaging.
Thanks for reading, and for the kind words, Marion. So appreciated!
TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN/
.LINDA ANN MURPHY …THIS IS A NEIGHBOR OF YOURS FROM YOUR GREAT IVY LODGE DAYS AT 500 N. TAYLOR.KIRKWOOD MO
. I WAS TOLD YOU ARE STEALING MY SOCIAL SECURITY DIRECT DEPOSIT MONTHLY MONEY. SET UP WITH A
MAN FROM FLORIDA CLAUDE FRANCIS IN KIRKWOOD MO..WITH KAREN CLARKS MONEY NOW FOR FEBRUARYS PAYMENT …YOU HAVE BEEN SOO CRUEL TO THIS LADY, KAREN CLARK. YOU MUST NOT STEAL THIS LADYS MONEY AND GIVE HER DIRECT DEPOSIT TO YOURSELF IN FEBRUARY 2024….LET HER BE LINDA MURPHY AND ALSO CLAUDE ..SHE WAS TOLD TO CALL POLICE AND REPORT THIS TODAY..BE THE WOMAN YOU SHOULD BE..NOT GREEDY..LINDA. THIS IS HER MONEY FROM HER MORE THAN 10 YEARS OF MARRIAGE .WIDOWS BENEFITS ..SHE WAS PRIVLIDGED TO RECEIVE THIS EARNED BENEFIT…SHE WAS TOLD HER NECT MONTHS PAYMENT MAY BE GOING TO MISSOURI. TO A BANK ACCOUNT IN KIRKWOOD MO TO YOU LINDA ..
Tim Hetherton brought me here- that was super interesting and fun to read! thanks for putting that all down!
Chris Gibbs
Thanks for stopping by, Chris! Really happy you enjoyed it.
Nice piece of writing! To me, your experience has always been a secret history. I’d be interested in reading more!
Aw thanks! There’s definitely more of it 🙂
This essay makes me catch my breath every time I read it. I want to run to my husband and hold him. I am using this in my teaching, just so you know. Thank you.
What wonderful parents, beautiful writing and a subject many of us can relate to.
Thank you, Gayle!
Beautifully written, Ann. Apt analogy with kayaking the Nantahala. Looking forward to reading the book.
beautiful, maria!
Oh, Celia! Thank you so much for reading, means a lot <3
Love this! Can’t wait for the book.
Thanks, Moo!
I have been down the Nantahala many times . I love the comparisons!
True😎
Thanks…happy to hear this from a fellow paddler!
The sweetest of stories. Nice work.
Thank you, Kathy!
Wonderful comparisons! Thank you! I will look to this often as I navigate my writing path.
Thanks, Callie. I wouldn’t have a writing path without you!
Thank you for sharing this piece. I can relate to it.
Thank you so much ❤️
I love these 3 kayaking rules and how you brought them to writing. I’m going to tape them on my wall as remnders.
Thank you..
I’m so happy you found this useful. Thanks, Charlotte!
Beautiful piece! I love the way you weave in the process of kayaking as well as the myth of Demeter and Persephone!!!!
Thanks for your kind words, Lisa!
Thank you, Tony!
Beautiful Story of a Beautiful family.
Wonderful. I feel like I know Joy’s parents
Thanks, Jay!
What a great interview! A plethora of good information. I will be re-reading Candace’s book for about the 4th or 5th time.
What an amazingly gorgeous story. What a great ride in a foreign land, (beyond Kansas) I could visualize every scene. So sorry about what you endured due to your brother’s choice. (((BIG HUGS))) to you.
Thanks for your beautiful memory, Ryan. It’s so important to remember how we got here, and your story brought to light a few special vignettes of my own family tales. So many ancestors did so much to help me thrive in a world so very different to the ones into which they were thrust. At my best, their strength and wisdom live on through me. Your story underlined for me how much joy my family savored in my smallest achievements. I could taste the the contentment and gratitude in your postscript fish dinner. Thanks for prompting my own sweet memories.
This made me cry so much. the helplessness and going on despite. thank you.
Hello Ms. Francis-Williams!
I am delighted to have come across this story and you! Your biography says you grew up in the 60s and were immersed in the counterculture movements of southern California. As a graduate student, I am working on a research project around just that and, if able, I’d be honored to talk to you more about those things. After reading this story, I also wondered if you had ever published your memoir “Sassafras Tea and Cinnamon Toast, a life without ruffles.”
Warmly,
Lexie
she is so pretty!! And i dont like reading but this writing was great.
Wow! Gripping.
This was extraordinary to read.
today is December 23rd. according to your “when can you submit” there is a fee-free submission period from 12/21/2022 to 12/31/2022. I have tried every day so far, but Submittable still still demands $3.00. this is not about the money. This is about accuracy and being able to rely on posted information about a submission call. Can you please let me know how to access the free submission. There is a world of difference between pay to play and venues just welcoming written works. I await your instructions on accessing the fee-free option.
Thanks for this. I think the book sounds like an interesting read.
Casey thank you for sharing a moving and soul gripping summary of these three novels that I am grateful to know about. It has been five years since I lost my adored 26-year-old son and I am hoping I will find my words to share this never-ending grief.
I really enjoyed your memory piece, Ryan. It brought back all the details of going fishing with my father (though he LOVED it). Even setting trotlines.
Casey, this was a wonderful description of Rachel’s book. Thanks for sharing!
This sounds like a book I’d like to read. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.
Love the cooking descriptions. Made me hungry !
I love this essay, Maryam!! Finding compassion for the ways we are unique in our reading, writing, and learning is so liberating! Thank you for sharing!
Evoked long ago memories of farm pond fishing in the deep summer heat, and left me longing for a seat at the family table. Ohhhh, for a taste of Mama and Mamaw’s fresh caught deep fried fish, hush puppies, and coleslaw! Simply lovely, Cressie. More, please!!!
Such a rich and evocative story, Ryan! I could feel the heat of the sun and the squish of the earthworm.
What a beautiful story – the imagery is so rich I felt like I was there. Thanks for sharing!
Beautifully written story-thanks for sharing a glimpse into such a vivid and potent memory!
I once read in the Economist something to the effect, “Evil exits in the world and evolution has prepared us to recognize it”. This sounded right to me based on my experiences in life. I could make decisions that were not random, but the result of parenting I received and all other knowledge gained by living in different cultures and working with humans in these diverse cultures that would be considered, “The right thing to do” and these decisions would benefit me and be beneficial for the society. I have more recently concluded that many people make poor decisions because their envelope of knowledge is too limited to cope with misinformation. Further, I have concluded that most of those trapped in this limited bubble of knowledge will never have the necessary curiosity or incentive to be motivated to expand their knowledge which could allow them to have thoughts and make decisions which are better for them and the society. This has made me more empathetic towards these people and causes me sorrow that they will what the remainder of their lives trapped in small bubble of knowledge.
Loved the imagery in this story- brought back many fond food memories of time spent cooking & fishing with my Missouri grandparents.
A tender, vivid story that really transported me to place (and, naturally, inspired me to cook fish tonight). Well done, Ryan!
Joanne I met you in person at the Library in Oneonta . I finished your book on 3 days. It made me laugh and it made me cry. As we talked about in Oneonta I can relate to your story. My husband had PSP. And while reading your book I felt like I was reliving my husbands battle with PSP. As Beany said your book is a love story. If my husband had had ax choice he would have chosen the same path as your husband did. Thank you for sharing your love story. My love story was very much the same as yours. My husband was a gift.
A beautifully written story. It is full of sights , sounds, smells, and taste. It made me happy and sad and also reminded me a bit of Welty.
Ryan, I love the richness of your storytelling – such a feast for each of the senses. You pry loose memories of my own childhood as you unwind your story, full of the poignancy of seemingly simpler times, comfortable and predictable routines, delicious home cooking, and taking life as it is. Your writing is both a balm and a nudge. Beautiful! I cannot wait for more!
This is such a gentle poignant story — I soon got lost in the world you created. The car and the siblings, the fish fry and the hush puppies, the sense of time lost is all so rich. Love the way it brings you up to modern day- fish from Whole Foods, dining alone after the parade of people in the childhood house. This is a lovely piece of memoir writing. More, more please
What a lovely story, so happy you have such vivid memories, and can share them.
I would have liked to spend a day with Mamaw!
Bravo!
I thought I was reading a Eudora Welty short story.
Ryan, such a beautiful story. I feel like I have been transported to your youth – in a place that’s so different from where I grew up – in a way that is rich, warm and moving. Congratulations!
Ryan, I so enjoyed reading about this vivid Mississippi memory. I can’t help but tear up thinking of my own. I too had a Mamaw that told all of us children we would never be a fisherman if we couldn’t bait our own hook. Congratulations!
This story made me feel like a fly on the wall of someone’s life. So rich, so vivid, so delicious… Loved it!
Wow, that made me feel so warm inside. It brought me back to the simpler days as a kid just playing outside with my friends and then running home to a home-cooked meal with my family. What an amazing childhood memory. I could really picture the whole scene. Loved it!
“Food is time travel.” Yes! So true. Thank you.
Food is time travel. So good to visit this piece again today. Wonderful.
Loved this story about family and fishing. I thought a lot about my now-deceased younger brother who adored fishing. Really felt connected to the characters in the story. Thank you for the sweet peek into what can draw families together.
Ryan — Time travel is such a wonderful gift — thank you for transporting us. You have a gift for telling details — can see (and hear) Bubba jumping two-footed to the ground, the shirtdresses (for good and not so good) are vivid still and I can picture Mama at the stove, talking and cooking, lifting the edge of the fish to make sure it’s not too brown.
What a great story, Ryan. It transported me back to Mississippi and a bygone era. It makes me want to grab a cane pole and find a little pond in the woods somewhere. Congratulations!
Congratulations, Ryan (or should I say “Cressie”?) on the publication of this wonderfully detailed childhood story. It further confirms the rich truth of food being the key to life’s best memories. Is that really the hush puppy origin story? Never knew that!
Loved this so much! It brought tears to my eyes. As the baby in the story, and being raised by the same women it is interesting how our experiences with these 2 women were different in many ways. I always knew they loved fishing but never really enjoyed seeing them fishing in the way described in the story. Their fishing days were over by the time I could remember. It was so fun reading the story from your perspective. You told it so well. Thank you for capturing this memory.
Love this. I felt as if I were transported back in time and age.
Heartbreaking…
Strong sensory imagery. Boom of an ending. Congrats.
Ryan! These are such sweet memories- that I’m so grateful you chose to share.
I am seriously Verklempt, Ryan. You bring us back to a simpler and richer time.
You have a wonderful way of conveying your journey and showing how nothing is left behind.
I really enjoyed your book, too.
Congrats!
Oh, Ryan! What a wonderful story! I so enjoyed immersing myself in the beautifully crafted vignettes of a loving family and childhood memories. I can almost taste the hush puppies and brim. A bit of made by hand makes the tasty memory even better!
I just read your story aloud to Terry! It’s so genuine, and directly from your heart. Details upon details create a warm and real response from anyone reading it. It was so visual. Terry added that your childhood was sure different from either one of ours! We love it.
Such a lovely and well written memory Ryan, I really enjoyed slowing myself down to appreciate the nuances!
What a journey into a time and place I sadly don’t think exists even in Mississippi.
But maybe. I loved the relationship of the women handing down tradition through nature, activity, stories. So much love emanates even to us the readers. A gift.
Such a beautiful story. I feel like I am right there. Also, love the inclusion of present day experience at the end.
Ryan, thanks for that memory….I can see all of us gathering at Mamaw’s house at the holiday. Such a small house but so huge with love and good memories… it’s amazing how we all fit. I can feel Mamaw’s dress as I climbed in her lap in that rocking chair…..slightly worn but rich with her scent. I’m instantly brought back to images of her brushing her long grey hair at night before bed and rubbing Ben-Gay on her knees……LOL
Ryan- Congratuations! I loved reading about your memories of Mama and Mamaw. Food is a way of traveling through time. Beautifully conveyed. Mary Pat
Beautiful, poignant story with such an authentic voice – I’m sitting right beside you throughout! Great piece, Ryan!
I loved Davis’s use of field peas.
Loved Ronit’s Another one who wouldn’t be ours.
Loved Randel’s and pulls herself into the rest of her day, week, life.
Great examples departing an essay. The emotional leave always resonates with me.
Good story. Not too many things make me homesick for Mississippi. This story did. Lovely.
Love this story! I definitely could picture myself there. Great job!
Ryan – This is fantastic! I was right there with you as a child – such sensual details — SO ALIVE! You’ve made me hungry for fish and fishing. Thank you for writing this. Karen
What a delightful childhood memory… I could see and hear and almost taste every moment you spent that day with your family. You wrote it with such a tender richness, that I want to know more!
Hi Ryan……….I’m so glad Denise told me about your story. You did a great job, good buddy. I loved the vivid memories, the solid setting, the accurate dialogue. Hurrah for you! Now I am waiting to read your whole book of memories. Keep on keeping on. love, carol
What a powerful, packed piece. Every utterance shatters the soul.
Such rich details about setting and feelings.
Well now where do we find this essay so we can read it?
oh, yes.
Lovely vulnerable piece and learning to take care of our body and use the damn restroom when we need to is a real practice!
Loved this culinary memoir. My mouth is watering.
I have read this so many times – I give it to my students – and each time it guts me. I watched my mother die, but I’m more afraid of how my daughters will deal with me dying.
Morgan, it still guts me….
Just reread – time to read in class. I choked again. It’s so damn good.
Just seeing this now. Thank you.
Love this! I plan to share it with my students.
Thank you Rebecca! That would be an honor.
Seems like poetry to me—very beautiful though. It’s strange how pain can spawn wonderful words. I’m sorry your parents’s faith hurt you…
Why is it called an oven, when you of in the cold food, of out hot eat the food?
Penus
Very relatable, tore at my heart. Amazing piece!
I love this! Thank you so much.
Wow, Christy. Love your review … but a great-grandfather hung for murder? Never heard about that. Can’t wait to read the book!!
What an intriguing review. You have captured the essence of a beautiful written experience.
Can’t wait to read the memoir about your great grandfather..
I love your description of the why and how of your memoir writing. “I write what I know and let myself move into what I don’t,” I wrote about my father’s tragic accident–or had to–as a way to order the chaos in my brain. Trying to claim structure to an unfathomable event brought a semblance of control. It took me several months to get through the piece published in Hippocampus (2017). Since then, I’ve explored more threads in the tangled web of trauma, each leading me to the place I need to go next.
Evelyn- I just read your essay! What a beautiful tribute to you father and vivid description of fear! It’s so beautifully written! Thank you!
Thank you for your brave share—hits the head on the nail.
Thank you, Catherine!
So well written. Loved every word and analogy, every bit of description…even had to look up a few words with which I wasn’t familiar. You’re a teacher and entertainer! So sorry you have been going through this illness. What a talented woman – you must keep writing!
It was a beautiful piece!
I am trying to put my story into words. Sometimes it feels like an impossible task. How can I hope to accurately describe what I am feeling, what I am thinking? Writing has always been a difficult task for me, but it is something that I am passionate about.
Hi Lily! I appreciate your comment on this post, and I would love to connect with you. I have a free online writing group that offers community and support for writers. You can email me at kate@katemeadows.com if you’d like to connect. Thank you!
Alison – I found this story by searching Facebook for an old acquaintance from school. I am so glad I found you, but so sorry to hear of this. We were not close in school , but I often think about how your life turned out when you moved from Blan schools. I’m glad you have found a way to tell others your story, especially the young vulnerable girls/women out there. My daughter is 20 and I feel I need to have her read this and have that conversation.
Beautiful piece!
Nice
Being a cradle Catholic and a participating Catholic today, I could relate to your essay in many ways, although I am a female. It sure was refreshing to hear something positive about a priest, and honesty instead of bashing of our faith. Catholics do deal with a lot of guilt, some is necessary and some can be paralyzing. I’m glad you were able to talk to both of your parents (remarkable!) and even a priest about such intimate feelings. I have two grandsons who are 13 and 14 years old at present. Your essay helps me to think about what feelings they may be going through and to be more available to calm their fears. Thank you so much for your amazing essay!
What a difficult story to share. “The mothers don’t carry them. The babies hold on,” said Fish and Game, “for dear life” is a line that tore at me.
I just read this story today because I subscribed to CNF’s Sunday Short Reads newsletter. As a fellow ME/CFS sufferer your story moved me deeply, Michelle! I’m lucky to be more functional at the moment, but I still relate to the feeling of being left behind. Especially the part where you compare your isolation to being deceased. It’s a really powerful analogy.
Thank you for reading and sharing your comments.
Beautiful advice, I love this Yolanda! So helpful, pacing is so important, as is each numbered item you share here. Thank you!
I’m so glad you find it helpful, Tania! You’re so welcome!
How inspiring. Such extraordinary writing!
What an essay, honest and inspiring at once. Thank you for sharing!
Well done!!
Thank you Catherine!!!
Wow, some of these details brought tears to my eyes. I hope to write like this one day.
Just love this so much. You are a very talented writer Katie!
This is so so fine, and very sad. I wish I were with you ALL to help in some way. Please tell Marget that I love her and remember well walking (on and on) that arroya behind her home. So much Love to all, and of course Richard and to that Land. Keep me posted. Maybe we can arrange a visit when she gets back this way. And any help I can offer. Please. You have my personal email: ksoniat@vt.edu 828.505.1925
Lovely piece. Thanks!
Megan, your questions to Linda elicit deep self inquiry that ultimately lead to catharsis and change. Linda underwent lasting transformation in the act of boldly examining and dismantling her family home, and its layers of heavy emotional import. Brava for your keen ability to crawl into the hidden corners of your subject’s inner world, where the secrets and revelations live, and bring them out into stunning light!
Thanks Megan for sharing the interview. I need to read it again to really understand it.
👏👏👏
Thanks for your kind comments, Jennifer, and for attending my session. Contact me any time if you could use my input on your work!
This is really beautiful.
That healing process is so well done. Thank you.
The romantic image of the lonely writer is one I’ve cultivated for many years. I’m at a point now where I understand that writing (for me) can be a solitary activity as well as part of a community. Reading this was like the gentle but determined nudge I’m always trying to give myself about finding a writing group. Thank you, Laura.
Sorry to hear your Dad passed…He was an amazing horseman. I have had horses in my life that changed me, made me a better person. I am more careful and mindful of how I view others and like horses I have learned to sense what or who I should avoid for self preservation. Every time I am with a horse- it is an opportunity to learn from them. Every time you touch a horse- you can either make it a negative or positive experience for both of you…never go to the barn mad or upset and take it out on your horse. Use that time to release that negativity and be in the moment- because you can’t get back that time.
Yes that is a magnificent article! I am so pleased to see how you’ve devoted much of your life to bettering so many power disparities and social injustices. Only later in my own, considerably more modest career did I better appreciate the steep ethical foundations authored long ago by then influential development ethicists but now I sense are not especially embraced by today’s such younger professionals
That rendition of a life that was not desirable, filled me with horror, and empathy. The horror for me, emanates from the reality that real life, unfortunately, sometimes, derives from this kind of abuse The criteria, and dialogue, was very vivid in its detail.
Wow! This is so powerful, Ronit!
So much relatable longing and then POW.
Hi Katherine, just read this for the second time (after recommending it to Steve Z!), and it’s just as wonderful as the first time I read it a few months ago. I want to read more of your writing!
This was a joy to read and quite enlightening. You brought a voice to a subject in need of one. Thanks for sharing!
Thank you for sharing your insights. I am curious to know how you went about finding a writing coach.
I found my coaches through an Adult Ed writing class, and through Grub Street in Boston.
Her session was fascinating and informative. As an essayist myself, I was very keen to attend this session, and I was not disappointed.
Your conceptual approach reminds me of author Andrea Barrett’s collection of short stories called “Ship Fever” published in 1996.
I’d love to know if you are familiar with this compilation.
Thank you for your marvelous story.
Thank you so much for reading it! I have not read Andrea Barrett’s work but will be sure to check it out.
I love the imagery used in this piece, and the fragmentation you used — I’m a huge fan of fragmented narratives! Also, I really like the contrast between the Kudzu and peas, and the way you accept your heritage at the end, for better or worse. Truly beautiful.
Thank you for your kind comments!
A beautifully rendered experience. I love this sentence: “Outside on the sidewalk, grave men touched their hats, children bowed, matrons shook hands — a dry and formal culture — but suddenly the air was rich with bells. I exhaled and almost skipped.” The parallels between the kitten and ballet dancer/narrator were mesmerizing.
Thank you Alex! I’m pleased you got the parallels.
I recognize much of this from your wonderful memoir, but reading it again here brought it all back in a new way with new impact. Thanks for allowing me another read.
Enjoyed reading. Great description of Eric!
Thanks David!
I love how real you were able to make the balance of wonder and worry feel to me as I was reading this beautiful “Foreign” story. And how your struggle is highlighted by the kittens failure.
I also love your sentences such as “kindness slipped through their silent faces”, and “I wasn’t part of her struggle” that seem unexpectedly and almost painfully honest and reveal so much.
A small unforgettable story that sinks deep.
.
Thank you Denise. That means a whole lot to me.
Robbie- I loved this mesmerizing, brutally honest and funny piece. Thanks so much!
“They are compasses, children. They are maps by which we find our way home.” — I so love this! Wonderful essay.
Exceptional writing against a ghastly backdrop. Bravo! I am so sorry for your experience and loss, but so warmed by your incredible resilience!
Leann, your words are so beautiful. I am so glad to know that your dreams of being a cowgirl and a writer have come to you. Thank you so much for your courage and beautiful gift of this essay.
Thank you so much ❤️
I held my breath the entire read. Beautifully written to haunt everyone who reads this. Thank you!
As your piece strives for balance between the fantastic possibilities of space above and the deadly nuclear weapons below, what I appreciate most is that your eyes don’t glaze over. Instead you hitch a ride to the stars on Handel’s Messiah, look back, and restore your sixth-grade hopes with a fresh perspective.
Heartbreakingly beautiful writing. Thank you.
Thank you so much ❤️
You made me cry – that’s not the first time. Rachel, your writing finds a way of revealing and making beautiful what is in my heart but I didn’t know how to say. And of showing angles and perspectives I hadn’t considered.
thank you.
Love the way at the end that there’s empathy but without letting go of the acknowledgment of the damage done. Such a delicate balance and beautifully written.
A year ago my best friend died in hospice. It was sudden that stage four terminal cancer. You described the whole experience perfectly, the horrid, the deep numbing grief. Well done.
Thank you so much ❤️
The isolation and loneliness of this story has really stuck with me.
The feeling of being surrounded by people, yet having no one to talk to
The novelty of Sundays in those cultures where everything closes to facilitate time to spend with friends and family is less rosy for the outsiders that have not yet created either
The despair of hoping and failing to make it through the night when there could be help with the new dawn
The last line shows how things have changed with time.
Thanks Kat. Yes, those Sundays were weird. I didn’t realize at first and planned to buy stuff for a picnic on a Sunday. To my shock, NOTHING was open. I was in Germany a couple years ago visiting friends and it has changed. There were places at the train station to buy more things than when I lived there.
You show so deftly how family secrets can affect generations and how freeing it can be to embrace them and bring them into the open. Loved this!
You capture so well the anxiety of being a stranger who does not speak the language. I felt like I was right there with you. And the image of the kitten dying has stayed with me for days–powerful!
Thank you Kathy. I keep thinking of the many currently forced into new countries, new languages. I had a job and intended to go. But yes, the kitty broke my heart.
So boldly honest and beautifully written!
Thank you so much ❤️
I was so on edge about what was going to happen with the peephole guy at the end! Wonderfully done!
Thank you Kathy, for your comments on my story!
Your story “Pulses” is so beautiful, poetic, and heartfelt. I admire the way you entwine family life with plant life.
Your conceptual approach reminds me of author Andrea Barrett’s collection of short stories called “Ship Fever” published in 1996. I’d love to know if you are familiar with this of compilation stories. They are truly superb.
Let me know if you have read them!
I thank you for your marvelous story—and your comments on mine.
I am so glad I found this story! Deb, you are a powerful writer, and every word awakens the senses, connecting us to the heartbreaking experiences of the narrator. Well done.
Patty. Hi, its clare Elton. I so want for you to be happy AND healthy. I always thought you to be the kindest woman with a gentle spirit. I thank you for that. Please take care❤
I couldn’t agree more, and I think you are being generous. It felt shallow to me, with too many details of the circumstances and too little insight. I came to the book expecting Owen’s to connect the dots about specific books and what they offered, but she does little more than list titles. So what? Also, it was just plain strange that there wasn’t a single mention of her husband the whole time she was raising kids, having more kids and then falling in love with Kyle. Are we to believe that little detail of her life wasn’t part of her dilemma? A very unsatisfying read.
Such a sad and beautifully written piece, I could feel all of your pain. And then your bio, I wish you lots of courage.
Thank you so much ❤️
A young life in a few words! The perfume got me and then that ending. Wonderful.
What a beautifully immersive piece, Terri! There are so many incredible sensory details that evoke a sense of disorientation and loneliness and also beauty. Thank you for sharing this.
Thank you, Monica. Your comment makes me happy!
Oh this is powerful, and in between the punches of humor, there is very real pain. I disagree that “you got yourself into trouble.” You were living, adventuring, BEING and the times were dangerous for women because predation was very real then too, just differently cloaked, also so often using an alias.
Your story to me, illuminates this need to look very carefully at our circumstances. Sometimes a peephole is very, very necessary. Right, Indira?
As a person who had undergone a very serious bladder cancer surgery. I could not put this memoir down. I thoroughly recommend it to everyone undergoing recovery . Brahna’s resilience to overcome her tragedy will be a guide to all our healing. Definitely pass on to all your loved ones.
What a touching and memorable story. I loved the descriptions of the light, a new culture, the language. And I was so sad for the little kitten and for you. I found it heartbreaking no one would help…Beautiful writing. Bravo.
Thank you, Ann. I think the fact that no one took the time to help encouraged me to learn the language. I suppose its a human thing: I don’t understand you so if I ignore you, you’ll go away…
Breathtaking. I will think about this a lot. Thank you.
So tender, vulnerable, lost. I won’t forget this piece.
I just subscribed to your blog.
Roz
Hey Roz, Thank you so much. I just commented on your blog post about a memoir in essays and will subscribe. Sorry, I got the email with your comment here AFTER I sent the email.
Such tragic and beautiful poetry. So many vidid and memorable descriptions:
“fell from my mouth like tangled wire.”
“rain was erasing sidewalk hopscotch.”
“asleep in a pile of leotards.”
Your story perfectly captures your bravery, loneliness, compassion, and sensitivity.
It is a quiet and moving marvel.
—Lotus Mae
Lotus, Thank you so much. You already know I admired your piece. In fact I’ve recommended it to writing friends…
A lovely, poignant story. Well done, Terri!
Thank you, Richard. Love the word “poignant”…
Loved it!
Thank you Vicki!
So many beautiful descriptions. My favorite: Re tGerman words “fell from my mouth like tangled wire.”
Thanks, Jacalyn! And yes, German can leave you with a sore throat, but I love the language now. Its rules are so different…
Wow! Beautiful writing – now I need to go and buy your books!
Very very powerful. And beautiful with imagery and metaphor.
What a gorgeous, heart-breaking essay. Beautiful, honest, clean prose. So powerful!
Thank you so much 💔
A wonderful story. So vividly observed. It felt like Germany in the, what, 70s? And the kitten. Of course you never forgot her. I also loved the way you described how words behaved in your mouth. Well done!
Thank you, Anne. Yes, late 70’s. Because I couldn’t talk, I spent a lot of time looking and writing. If you learned to speak German after you were out of school, you understand what I wrote about the language. Jetzt (now) – an early tongue tripper!
Hilarious. And scary – the crazy situations we get into when we’re young. Everyone has them, well, every woman I’m guessing. Your descriptions were visceral. I also laughed at the type of man you wanted and was thrilled to know you’d found him. I mean, you’re married, right…
Hi Terri. Thanks for your comment! I’m glad you enjoyed my story. And yes—I am married to a man that pretty much fits my description to a tee. Only he’s better than I hoped for. Thanks so much again! —Lotus Mae
This is an incredibly well-written short story. It was a pleasure to read it.
Thank you for sharing these important questions and your realistic answers.
Thank you for reading Carole! Writing out the answers cleared things up for me!
Wow! I felt every word of this. It’s beauty woven with wisdom. I love the voice and the title too. It’s already printed and in my “To Keep for Always” file.
What a powerful and utterly remarkable piece! It’s raw, honest, devastating … yet every word resonates with the love underlying this story. We, too, are brought into that room. We, too, watch quietly as this cherished woman struggles to stay – then struggles to leave. Being present at the passing of a loved one is a daunting privilege. Thank you so much for allowing us to share – through your unflinching testimony – this unforgettable narrative.
Your writing is a gift. Describing such a profound loss is the toughest test there is.
Thank you so much ❤️
Love this essay. My favorite line is this one about your past self: “That girl is a two-dimensional character in a story.”
Hey Katharine! I can’t believe it took this long for me to read your lovely, heartfelt piece. You are an amazing author and I agree with all of the previous comments. So glad Bobbie got to see it too (Hi Bobbie!). You are an incredible creative – I love having your photography all over my house – makes me think of you often. Love you, miss you, hope to see you soon!!! Tessa
Loved your thinking, thought process and article…
Thank you for reading Melody! I so appreciate it!
Such a beautiful, heart-rending story. Thank you for sharing, Terri.
Thank you, Carrie!
A beautiful and touching elegy. My cat slept at my feet last night; I take it for granted but it’s a miracle to have these connections with our pets.
Thank you Brian. It was a dog sleeping at my feet last night – I’m non-parochial when it comes to pets!
Sweet story. You were so brave!
Thank’ Robin. I was more clueless than brave. And with a passion to dance.
The sadness and bravery, the confusion and discovery is truly the saga of a person trying to get their footing in a strange and unfamiliar country. Beautifully written, Terri Lewis.
Thank you Nancy. Sometimes I think about how much easier it was for me than for many who leave home now for awful reasons. I wanted to be there, had a job, and still it was hard…
So much going on in this story. The pouring of the water, the struggles with language, the broken parts of a family. You covered entire lives with such feeling. And the ending? Exactly right. I was so glad for you.
Thank you, Terri! I appreciate your thoughts.
Thank you, Layla!
I love the clustering of images, how they are disparate but in the end coalesce. I’m thinking it may be the way the mind works in alzheimers – my MIL has it and I never know where we are when the conversation in her head emerges into speech. The image of the flashing fireflies was devastating. A moving piece.
Thank you Terri! I’m so sorry to hear about your mother-in-law and wish you peace and blessings in your journey with her.
Kathy, Your language is so eloquently simple and stirs me in many ways. I can taste, smell, touch, and see the pictures you paint and relate so well to the people you allow us to meet. Thank you!
Thank you so much Sarah!
A compact story – so much in a few words. Wow! Brava!
Thank you for reading it, Margaret. 🧡
Your writing is incredible, thank you for sharing your families journey. I know that your Mother is very proud of you! God Bless you Leanne.
Wow this story is just exactly how it sometimes works its sad that this is the way that we lose our loved ones its also not fair to lose them to soon they should get to enjoy there families just a little longer. I think you are a excellent writer Leanne Pierce you definitely write it down just how ir is sometimes its sad to lose our loved ones even so young it just isnt fair. I think if you wrote a small novel it would definitely catch people reading it and understanding that is how lofe os sometimes so cruel
Thank you so much ❤️
I have been at the bedside of dying loved ones many times. You have described it accurately. The dying room is like the departure gate to a place unknown. It helps that I believe it is a better place. I have never been there as you have though, as a person whose ticket has already been purchased. Your body might be failing but your mind, your ability to write and your generous spirit in sharing is so strong! The gorgeous photo is perfect because it shows you as the beautiful person that you are.
This is the real reality of a parent dying. So well written, from the heart.
We need to talk about the right to die and the inhumane treatment of the dying in this country.
LOVE THIS. Gorgeous writing.
Barbara, thank you! Thank you so much for reading.❤️
This is brave and moving. Then after your story, comes the bio. One blow after another, but yes, you can write! Thank you for sharing.
I am saddened by the reality of the facts you have had to bare.
Such a close family. Such profound sorrow in every word that has been pulled from the deepest reaches of your soul Leanne.
God has been using this tragedy to light the path for others who follow.
Your life will be a testimony to many, especially those who love you deepest, Dallas, Cassie, Monika, your dad…
This is just our temporary home. It is not all there is.
Having buried the ashes of my own daughter, I am reminded daily of her in numerous ways. Her heart-light still shines bright!
Love those around you, and continue to share your spirit! Life is not measured in the length of our life we have lived here, it is measured in the quality of the time and the way we chose to spend it.
Trust and love the Lord with all your heart. Keep short accounts. Be kind and generous.Teach others to rise above and go beyond. Leave this world a beautiful and better place than you found it.
You are a child of the most high Lord!
He loves you, and although we may face uncertainty, he is always with us.
God bless you Leanne.
Kerry, I want to thank you for giving me and inside look of what it feels like, before and after. As a father to a six years old who had the opportunity to go through SDR where you went when she was 3.5 years old, I always wonder how it feels like.
She ita working hard and progressing so much.
Like you, although her young age, she is determined to inspire others.
You can see her on YouTube – Fun Wiz Zo.
I copied your words to read it to her when she is ready to fully understand.
I look at you and absorb tremendous inspiration.
Thank you so much
Elad
Rachel Cann’s story All The Beautiful Young Men has been honored by a Pulitzer Prize proposal for 2023 by the English editor of Lit.202.
Well done Nilsa! Just came across this. Loved it.
Deeply moving and thoughtful. Love!
Oh, thank you for saying that! It’s good to know my meaning was understood. –Connie
This speaks to me on so many levels, levels that I didn’t even know that I had. In writing, you verbalize so much of how I felt just after the quarantine with pure vulnerability and candidness. Thank you!
i love this! this is Awesome.
Very well done!!! My best to you.
Thank you, Charlotte, for your inspiration that life after the death of a family member may not ‘go on’, but it does ‘move forward in time’. My son, Kevin, took his life on 7/1121…not a lucky day. I think I must have read most of the recommended grief memoirs out there trying desperately to begin some healing. . Astonishingly, you and another Mom (author of “I’ll Write Your Name on Every Beach) live in the same community as I! I loved your presentation with Tim at All Saints recently. A strange but much appreciated serendipity! I hope there might be a “Paris” in my future too. Thank you for sharing the deepest part of yourself.
Sorry, Charlotte, please edit to “Mike” not Tim, in my above post.
Brave woman.
Stunning! so great to see it in print for all to enjoy
Thanks Jojo!
If anyone is looking for the Canadian guide to grant writing, it has a new link: https://breathingspacecreative.ck.page/cc46d622da.
I love to play with numbers, also. All four of my grandparents (all of whom I knew) were born in the 1890’s. They all lived past 70. Good stock! My parents were born in 1921 and they both lived to 96 — dying on the same day. Three of my younger siblings have died. Three of my older cousins have died. At 75, I am the oldest living member of my family. I started writing about my life after a life-threatening illness in 2019. I have much to share. Thank you for your sharing. I shared it with a friend who “lost” her husband to cancer in November 2021. Her writings are marvelous to read.
Oh my gosh, Leslie ~ I’m so glad you’re writing. It sounds like you’ve got a rich family life from which to share. Looking forward to reading more!
This story moved me in how well it detailed the internal and external realities of the experience. I felt so physically similar when I was a new mom and this story showed me that those physical responses can occur without having given birth. Thanks for sharing this story of love, hope, and the desire for justice.
Love the intertwining of universal human experience and different subcultures. Very well done!
I love the amazingly funny truth! I can honestly resonate with that last phrase (cause I have TRIED AND IM TIRED!).
I received a handwritten essay from my incarcerated son on Saturday, May 28. I submitted his essay Sunday, May 29, 2022. I had difficulty using Submittable. After contacting them and not receiving a reply until late afternoon on May 31, I was delayed in finally submitting an essay for my son until 6:15 pm May 31. I hope we met the deadline!
I love this essay and all the beautiful places you take us! May many things grow from here.
Thank you, Eva! Xx
Awesome read…extremely talented!
Thank you!
I loved your story, it was gripping, incredibly moving and flowed beautifully.
Thanks for sharing that heartbreaking journey so raw and well written
I often think of you all.. love Tini
This made me think about what it must have been like for my mom going through the exact same thing with my dad in 1970. Heartbreaking and so beautifully written. Thank you for giving words to this hellish experience.
I loved your story.. Self deprecation tells me the couch and shag carpet is good for you. You see yourself in all it’s, how did you put it, “chunky” glory. Thanks for the chuckles, laughs and reminding us that a critique of one’s self can be therapeutic.
Such a visceral memory. If only we all knew what that last time would be like — if we could forecast, script, rehearse, what would it look like? This captures the moment and the lingering regret and pain.
Please check out toadalrepellant.com We finally have a product that can help protect pets from cane/bufo toads
What a horrible, lovely, strange, sad, and powerful story. Thank you for sharing. Michael was a great man. And he was clearly lucky to have you. And you him. For whatever time allowed.
Wow. Just wow.
I wept . So beautifully written. I too wanted to hold my son forever and tell him how much he was loved, still do. Cancer ripped him away from our family.
Brilliant. So much so, I was almost late dropping my kids off at school, as I was so absorbed in the story.
Beautifully written. Heartfelt. Poignant. Riveting.
Wow! This is an awesome piece of writing! The imagery jumped off the page and came to life!
Thank you so much for this. I’m so tired of apologizing to myself for my stomach or my rolls. And while I thought this was going to be a story about what happens after the loss of a pregnancy, I am happy that it was none of that but so much more.
Beautiful.
The ending is absolutely brilliant. Powerful story, beautifully told.
Yes. Yes. This exactly. Exactly this.
I’m so very proud of you my beautiful Goddaughter. Keep up the great work. Love you much !!!
I loved the entire piece. Your discussion of both self awareness and self love is vital, especially in a society that puts so much emphasis on a woman’s body. Thank you for sharing your gift with the world.
Keep Up the Awesome Writing.
So, l really do not have much to inquire about NOW because WE
Just Talked…Great talking w YOU this evening. LMU DEARLY
AMEN 💕 😂 💕 😂
ENJOY, B SAFE. Hope ALL turns out POSITIVELY w UR Health…n JESUS NAME. AMEN
Adina thanks for this wonderful writing! You have infused this essay with introspection, humor and an emotional power that challenges narrow patriarchy and cultural conditioning. This is Not Baby Weight speaks to many audiences because of your skills as a writer and thinker. I’ve read this several times today and once read it aloud for a colleague who kept saying “that part” as I read. I want to be a writer like you when I grow up. Will definitely be sharing.
I loved 🥰 this article thanks for a great read
I enjoyed your narrative of us “Ferguson” women😱! Great work…a chuckle here and there…but mainly reflections! Thank you for sharing! ❤️🥰❤️
Transparent and translatable! Written from the heart and we thank you for keeping it 💯
A dope, eye opening read!
Fierce writing, Adina. Great work!
I loved this piece. It spoke to me and my body. Thank you for this. Also, love the rhythm of your writing.
Incredibly written, Leah. Beautiful.
Thank you! xx
I so relate to this. I have been so ambivalent ( and also inert) these past several years. Thank you!
Oh, you are very welcome.
I really did like this Connie..and scarily enough? I find myself there..covid kills more than the body, it kills the soul.
A pox on COVID! I am weary of it.
Beautiful thoughts! Thank you!
Thank you! xx
Most of this is bullshit. Your grandma paid for your flying lessons. If your dad took you to a bar when you were growing up you were to young to be shouting pool and learning anything. You got blaming your problems on others from your moms side of the family. Nice piece of fiction though.
Great story–you are a master of storytelling.
What a dose of reality. I think I have been in a classroom with some of those boys, or their brothers. I want to know what happened next.
Great story. I grew up in Northern Idaho and the houses of ill repute of Wallace were known and discussed frequently at my high school. Some of my friends made the occasional “field trip” to Wallace to avail themselves of the services available there without one life ever being ruined. All were disgusted when the politicians finally put an end to things.
On a side note, Sam Day once interviewed me for a story in the Intermountain Observor.
Beautiful!
Mom you did amazing and I love all the hard work that you put into this
Three of my friends lost parents to suicide. I’ve heard about their lasting pain, even though two of them are all married with children. This was poignant without being sentimental, a tough line to toe. Thank you for sharing.
Hi Melanie…
Serendipity led me to discover you just now.
So enjoyed your piece on “turning 50”
Smiled all the way through till the end.
Was further touched by your acknowledgment of “Always Canadian”
Like you, I reside in the USA, and like you, my mantra too is “Always Canadian” eh !
So looking forward to reading all your
books ☺️
Excitedly,
E. Moren 🍁
This beautiful piece will stay with me. The dad/husband of a family I love died by suicide a year ago Saturday. I see his wife and children (ages 14 and 16) continue to struggle as they navigate his loss. Another dear friend is one year “No Evidence of Disease (NED)” following a Stage III colorectal cancer diagnosis at the beginning of Covid. Life is tenuous, tender. Thank you for the reminder, and the hope.
I loved this.
Rachel Cann had a story called Parting in your first issue. SINCE THEN i HAVE HAD 50 STORIES published!
Outstanding writing. Thank you for sharing your story and your gift.
So many times, I stopped to re-read a paragraph because it demanded I do so. Beautifully written… can’t wait to read the entire memoir. Oh… and those recipes. What a genius, creative way to include them. WOW.
Wow, Kadine! Thank you so much from Chantha and me both! We are so grateful you took the time to read Chantha’s story and to share your kind words.
Loved this book! Great review!
I would like to talk about the post. Many thanks for sharing!
I love this story, Chris. I teach a creative nonfiction class that requires students to read and share contemporary essays. I hope it means something that several different students have recommended this one.
I am trying to book a flight back to Seattle. What sessions are happening on Sunday, August 14? Is it a full day?
The best way to reach someone about the conference is to email conference@hippocampusmagazine.com
Thanks, Karen. I’d counter Rifka’s comment with the observation that you seem to be doing thoughtful work embracing your heritage in this new context. You describe walking on a tightrope, and, impressively, you keep from falling to either side.
This is really well written. Thank you for sharing 🙂
Thank you for reading, Heather!
Wow, what a story and what incredible writing Charlotte!! I was with you with the ups and the downs, and the ups again. I genuinely LOL’d (in disbelief) when your first father said, “We’ve got quite a drive back to Princeton.” ….and then the twist at the end! Really engaging writing, and really well done.
Jeff, thank you so very much for leaving such encouraging words!! It took me a few years to find the laughter…but I don’t know how I would have survived otherwise.
Beautiful piece, Danielle.
Congrats on a lovely piece! The numbers are such an interesting way in.
This was a brilliant story and I thoroughly enjoyed reading through it. I could feel the anxiety and the tension and the hurt and anger of wanting to know and be loved by the ‘wrong father’ and feeling so rejected and hurt by it, but then having an unexpected and happy twist in the end when you find the ‘right father’, one who is there for you through and through. I, too, am curious to hear about the ‘right father’ and the bond that grew between the two of you.
Patience, thank you so much for reading my story – the bond is growing, but real life is complicated, as I’m sure you know! It’s not easy to establish a father-daughter bond at our stages in life…but we’re finding our way!
What a great story (and loved the opening story re the pyramid scheme cowboys!)! I was hooked on every sentence, love your writing style! Also the hidden (or not so hidden?) messages about the hypocrisy of the community at the time.
Funny and touching Charolette. I really enjoyed reading it. Thanks
Many thanks, Barbara!
I really enjoyed this memoir. For me, a new side of you.
Great story, Charlotte. Very funny and very sad, all rolled into one piece. What a turn at the end. I was so glad Dennis Lane was not your father. Indeed, he was quite a disappointment. Glad you found your real dad. Pat
Patricia – thank you! I’m glad, too…
Sharp, poignant, engaging piece! The details are crisp and the pacing kept me glued to every word. Excellent piece, Charlotte! I admire how you were able to tell a long, complicated story in a short space, leaving the reader wanting more, yet creating a complete, satisfying story in itself.
Sue, thank you very much for sharing such kind words!!
I love this Charlotte! You have such a good sense of humor that you tie together with these visceral feelings. It’s truly a complete work of art.
Thank you so much, Heather – I appreciate your positive comments!
I cannot wait to read the memoir. Great tension created in many levels. And the ending could only happen in a true story!!!
Thank you, Ruth, for your kind words!!
Nice. I love to can, and I love my Mom.
Loved this read, you are such a craftswoman. Beautifully written.
Wonderful story. So well told. I could see it all.
Absolutely loved your essay Charlotte. Connecting all those numbers and ending with what counts is so moving.
Thank you, Chris! So grateful for your encouragement. I hope you’re well!
Wow this packed a punch, Nice writing, Amazing story, I want to know about the new father as well. Maybe a second piece somewhere? I’m so glad he’s part of your life.
Morgan, thank you – there is a second piece…hopefully it will see its way to print!!
This was wonderful. Very poignant. The numbers hit home. I think I’m saving this for one of my classes.
Thank you so much! What classes? Where do you teach?
A great story, full of humor, empathy, and beautiful descriptions. Thanks!
This piece accomplishes what flash cnf should: get us in, smack us with a moment of reality, and get out. Brava!
Enjoyed your essay very much!
Charlotte, the turn at the end! Completely unexpected (as the discovery must have been for you). So much I love about this piece—the tensions that swirl around all the men in it, the hint early on (you “convinced yourself”) that something will be amiss, your italicized thoughts, the tepid tea that represents the accumulations that make you want to cry. I’m glad this found its way into print.
Helen, thank you so very much!! Ah, yes, doesn’t tepid tea make everyone want to cry?!!
Thank you for this writing piece. Going through two losses now and reading this was a comfort.
You are so welcome. I’m so grateful that it touched you. Sending warm wishes for your healing journey.
Deeply moving, masterfully written. I think with sadness of all of those I have lost.
Thank you so much for your kind words.
Fabulous review that really makes me want to read the book. Congratulations to the author and reviewer!
Well done, Brian. A treat to read your insights.
Brian – Thank you for your valuable reminder that our work deserves detailed attention to the small things that could detract from its impact. I’m often tempted to rush through, to yield to the excitement of finishing. Your words will remind me to conquer my impatience.
Thank you, Deb!!!
This is beautiful and heartbreaking. Great work!
What a fantastic story! Charlotte totally pulls you in as she bravely confronts “the wrong father”. And what a wonderful and unexpected twist at the end. Now I want to hear about “the right father.” I am curious about what her mother has to say about all this. Fantastic piece.
Many thanks, Chris – so appreciate your words of encouragement!
You are an incredible author! This is grittily beautiful.
The end of feeling safe and loved. You took me there
Powerfully real and tangible emotions expressed and surface in this piece; Losing Weight. Reminds me a lot of a course we were required to take while working with very young kids from traumatized backgrounds. Guiding each of those kiddos to finding a balance between the reality of their loss/experience and some positive memory in their brief past was a key discovery for both myself and the kids I was working with. This is meaningful writing on so many levels.
Hey Tatyana — I stumbled across this and saw your face at the end. It’s a lovely piece! (And see you in the pool!)
Debra, I love your solo retreat story. I can so imagine myself in your shoes–or rather sandals. You are making progress. Those conversations with strangers who are genuinely interested in your memoir matter. They fuel us through dry spells. Good luck with your book. You’re getting there! — Beth Ann Mathews elizabethannmathews.com
When an editor doesn’t know what a comma splice is, that’s a problem. You’ll never find a comma splice in a magazine like The New Yorker or The Atlantic, and the omission of commas after years and city names is now the norm in too much writing. The story a writer tells is the most important, but the writer can follow some basic rules about comma usage. As for students, it’s to be expected that they make mistakes. They’re students. But comma mistakes are unacceptable most of the time. There are no comma splices in The Dubliners. Joyce knew the rules. Then he wrote Ulysses.
Small world! I was a PCV in Nepal 18 (education,1968-70). I was the first posted to Mukti High School in Pyuthan Ratamata,
You must have been hiking the route in from Dang (Ghorahi) that climbed up to the Mahabharat Range with expansive views of the Dhaulagiri and Annapurna Himalaya, then following the crest eastward for some hours before descending from Tiram village to the Mardi Khola. That was the dry season route that began with a flight into Dang Tulsipur.
During the rainy season when the flights were suspended, the route from Kathmandu to Pyuthan involved taking a bus down to Birganj, then Indian Railway connections via Muzaffarpur, Gorakhpur, on to Tulsipur Uttar Pradesh. From there, a bus up to Koilabas just across the border. Then hiking over the first range of Siwalik Hills into to Deukhuri Valley, and roughly following the Rapti River/Mardi Khola up into Pyuthan. Today there apparently are bus connections over all-weather roads!
The connection between Dang Tulsipur and its namesake in U.P. was noteworthy. Tulsipur State was one of the original Baisi Rajya (22 petty kingdoms) of western Nepal. It consisted of Dang-Deukhuri Inner Terai and adjacent part of present-day U.P. During the Sepoy Rebellion of 1857-8, the Rani sided with the rebels against the British. When they lost, she went into exile across the border and the British annexed territory right up to the base of the outermost Siwaliks, so there is still no outer Terai belonging to Nepal along this section, and there are the two Tulsipurs commemorating the erstwhile rulers.
thank you for this wonderful history of the travel to Pyuthan. You have identified EXACTLY where I was hiking. Someone who knows the area now told me that it is now about three hours by bus from Ghorahi to Bhingri. What a transformation! Time and space compressed.
The old walking route from Ghorahi to Pyuthan went through Tiram rather than Bhingri. Bhingri probably wasn’t a destination until the road was re-routed further north around the headwaters of Arun Khola and upgraded to motorable condition. Nevertheless, the late Albert Clark and I must have gone through Bhingri during our cross-country trek from Pyuthan, to Dhorpatan during the Dasain holidays, 1969; without it registering in my memory or the photos I took.
Great share! Can’t wait to read more from you.
Nancy – Beautiful story. It has been many years but you were a huge influence on me. JoAnne Wasserman.
Ali, this is so moving. And courageous. I have been trying to tell a similar story for years and you’ve given me a little more power to do so. I hope you got some healing from this as well.
Thank you.
I hope that your story finds its way out! More than the writing, hearing from other women has been an unexpected and beautiful salve!
Thanks so much for this, Laura! Writing groups are a powerful thing — IF they are the right fit. You pointed that out, and I appreciate the mention of the groups you’ve joined, because a couple of them are new to me. As the former leader of a writing group in Kansas City, I developed a survey for writers who are looking for a writers group. It focuses on those very details you mention – what is your main goal in joining a group, how much time do you want to commit, etc. The survey is at https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/wgnmeetup. Many thanks for this nurturing piece!
I like how you have interlaced the voice of your father with your own feelings and responses and how you relate to your son. Well done with the back and forth. I can hear and feel your father.
Vivid, funny, tender. Congratulations on a great piece.
This resonated so deeply with me. Thank you for sharing. I didn’t say “no” either. And, I’m a loud talker as well. Well done!
Thank you for reading. And ugh, I carried so much shame for so many years about my response — I’d always assumed I’d react different. It seemed so out of character. May we change the narrative for those who come after us!
This is such an evocative picture of little girls and their friendships. While I was reading, images of my older sister and my best friend appeared.
Thank you for your bravery and vulnerability. It is so hard to be honest in writing, but that is what humans want and need.
I appreciate you reading! I try to ask myself, Is this actually the most true thing I can say about XXX? And if it’s not, I try to ask why. It is SO hard, but knowing it helps other women feel understood is worth it!
This was so helpful, I even took notes! Thank you for writing this.
Katharine, this is beautifully written and so honest. As a woman who surrendered to silicone at eighteen, your question “Will i feel it when its touched” is one i have rarely heard of a woman prioritizing, you know, her own sensations as much as the look. His honest recommendation for fat transfer was a quick peek into the world of implant complications. Congrats on choosing you.
The world needs more women like you to share their voices and experiences! Thank you for writing this enlightening piece ✨🌟💖🙏
Hello Katharine Emlen, what a moving piece. I’m a young adult college student who struggles a lot with reading and I don’t think I’ve read anything so easily. You words came easily to me and I never had to double back and reread something a few times to understand. I also especially admire how you talk about your worth and body going through changes with kindness towards yourself. I think any young woman reading this who fears of breast cancer or has it, this could really shine a light on their situation. Just wanted to share that with you! Beautiful writing!
Thank you, Anastasia!
A beautiful, smooth, and powerful story, very moving ~ the structure was crisp, the details vivid ~ I found this piece deeply poignant, thank you.
Beautiful use of the form!
Thanks Rebecca!
Love LOVE your style of writing… it’s not just letters forming words to be read on a page, you’re a skilled wordsmith who painted such a wonderful story that I feel that I not only know you, I lived the experience through you. I was transported into your world and I felt what you felt and I found myself smiling even as tears rolled down my cheeks. Thank you. Don’t stop writing! I can’t wait to read what you write next!
Thank you, Katherine!
This piece . . . ah, it’s got everything. It’s poignant and ferociously honest and laugh-out-loud funny and wise. Thank you for sharing this story; I’m giving it to everyone I know. That last line . . . powerful stuff, Katharine.
Thank you, Melissa! 🙂
Beautifully written, Farha. Especially the situation you are describing about a child and a mother’s interaction.
Thank you so much for your kind words
So descriptive of sights, sounds, smells and touch. I truly felt like i was there! Wonderful!
Love it! Thank you for sharing!
Thank you Kaitlin!
Beautiful.
What a beautifully written piece. I can’t wait to read your book! You are perfectly imperfect, as we all are. I am proud to call you my friend! 💜
Thank you Julie! I’ll let you know when I write that book! 🙂
Oh, Katharine …. what a lovely, loving piece of writing. You really nailed it – one single breasted woman to another. Keep writing! Keep being wonky and wearing two different socks. Kudos to you.
Hi Bobbie! We’re in the club! Hope you are doing well out there in Eugene! Thanks for reading!
Tatyana, I love this. Glad to see it here!
As fabulous as ever, Suzanne. Love, Aunt Mary
Tat! LOVE THIS! You are just perfect!
Thank you Veena for sharing your experience.
Beautifully written! Having to navigate all those nuanced and not so nuanced social layers takes guts and insight.
Maravillosamente bien escrito, con la suficiente cercanía para, conmover, y la justa objetividad e inteligencia para reflexionar y cuestionarse la situación. ¡Muchas gracias Veena!
More please! I didn’t want this to end. Such wonderful, emotional, engaging writing.
Congratulations. The writing was witty and touching to the emotional sphere. Love ya.
Thank you, Kelly!
Very inspiring. Well done and best wishes to you and your family.
This is beautiful…
Thank you Veena for sharing this amazing and insightful piece of excellent writing. I was gripped from the beginning and learnt so much. You are an outstanding and talented writer with much wisdom.
Thank Veena you for sharing your gifts of words and perspective
A fascinating article with astute observations–possible only by living in a culture different from ones own. This author’s same sensitivity has been achieved by many Peace Corps volunteers, including me. I even married a native of my assigned country (Peru). Such experiences have changed many lives.
I learned so much reading your article. Thank you. -Konnie Ellis
Very touching, if I’m allowed to say that… Great piece of writing, Katharine, well done!
Thank you, John!
Hello Veena! Loved loved the article!!! Send me an email. I want to introduce you to our amazing friends (and colleague) who just moved to Costa Rica!
What a wise and important article you have written, dear Veena! I will recommend it to all to explain the invisible structural impediments to equality and access to rights.
Beautifully written, evoking a gamut of emotions.
“Sometimes to survive we have to bury our stories deep in the earth, without a single stone to mark the spot.” THIS! And now you’ve marked the spot and women weep and honor your bravery as they recall their own stories. Blessings.
Dear Friend, thanks for your vulnerability in sharing. The body keeps the score, and this amazingly written piece is a step in healing. Honored to bear witness to it.
That was a huge burden you were carrying. I hope it’s a bit lighter now. Thanks for being brave enough to share it. That kind of strength is inspiring.
Thank you for your reflections on your PCV life in Nepal. Each volunteer has such different experiences yet I could relate to everything in your story in a very personal way – even though I served in Nepal from 1964-66. I’ve returned to Nepal 5 times since the 60s and admire how Nepalis have retained their smiles and friendliness to others. Thanks for your article and service. RR
You are so brave. These words hit home for so many!!!
Your writing authentically captures the feelings that are so hard to say out loud. Thank you for sharing them! 💜
Kojak
Thanks for Sharing;
🌹Hugs & Love🌹
🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽
Thank you for sharing your story. You put into words what many of us can never.
Beautifully written remeberance of time in Nepal. I was a Peace Corps volunteer in Lamjung, Nepal from 2017-2019. Ours was a very different experience with cell phones to connect with staff and colleagues, and buses the took us to Kathmandu and back close to our homes. I lived in Brahmin house but worked for the most part in a Dalit village. That created some tension at home but being white and old insulated me from negative comments or perhaps my limited Nepali kept me ignorant. Where I lived overseas work is now commonly in the Middle east and, in general, money sent home to my to Dalit community meant that while there were social caste differences there was broad economic parity betweem communities,
thank you for these reflections Richard. In the 80s I never heard of workers going to the Middle East – mainly India and for the upper echelon, Hong Kong. How interesting that the remittances made everyone at a similar economic level
Masterful storytelling, Thank you.
Kris, this is fabulous – and so quintessentially YOU!!! Funny…deep…. food/love/travel….woven into culinary/life wisdom…all with your unique and perfectly aimed humor! Brava!
Lauren, this is masterful, wrenching, and so so lovely. I didn’t know anything about NSSI before I read this, but your piece connects at such a gut, personal level. And I’m so grateful for the illumination.
Hi Kim, thank you so much for this lovely reply. It truly made my day. Thank you for reading!
Such a beautiful piece, Sue!
Thanks so much, Kim! And apologies for such a belated reply!
Devastating, courageous, and beautiful. Thank you.
Heartbreaking. And then taking power back.
Beautiful! I love it.
Stunned. Gutted. And so impressed with this gorgeous, brutally candid piece about a world I know nothing about.
Beautiful and heartbreaking. Thank you.
A belated thank you for the lovely comment. I’m so happy that you liked the essay.
Beautiful – “little room in the world for troubled dogs.”
Thank you for this. I recently adopted a shelter dog and he has come with challenges — growling and barking at family members (we are working on it with a behavior specialist). It is not always a simple, sweet story of “saving a dog who also saves you.” Sometimes, these unwanted animals need extra help. Zeus is lucky to have you.
Your writing style draws me in. Telling, reflecting, reaching forward, then back to the present. And I have seen the reality of you and your brother’s relationship in my own grandsons. I feel privileged tohave read “Teeth.” Thank you for sharing.
Beautifully told. Oh, and I think the dog has a perfect name.
This is outstanding, Rebecca. Loved it.
Thank you, Michael!
This is such a sweet story of finding your way and finding your voice! And starting where many of us have started – with that first memoir class with the encouraging teacher. Thank you!
Great advice – this one really resonates and is super practical, thanks
8. Note where you are in the writing process. You can help to protect yourself by telling your reader what kind of feedback would be most useful. In a raw first draft, a writer usually needs encouragement and some gentle questions to open up the story, and feedback such as line edits can be disheartening. When a writer starts to play with bigger aspects like structure and organization, further developing character and voice, this is a great time to receive feedback on how these are working. Once a piece is fairly polished, however, structural feedback may be discouraging. If your piece is a first draft and you simply want gentle feedback about what’s working and what could be improved, say that. If you’re happy with the structure of the piece and mainly want line edits, let them know that too.
I’m interested and glad to read how other mother’s who have children with disabilities are able to manage with the help of writing their stories. Thanks, Jaclyn!
Jen Yo
Hi, I have written a book – Dawn, The Doorway – Ascend through naturally distinctive children (Children born with congenital anomalies)
It is under process of publishing through Archway Publishing (From Simon & Schuster) I would like to send some more details and get your endorsement. It is based on practicing compaassion….. Grandpa of Dawn
Michelle, just, WOW. I won’t forget this story. I am so sorry you’re have had to endure this, and so grateful to you for writing about your experience so beautifully.
I hope this story wins the Pushcart Prize!!
I loved your article on a bad hair day. I won’t feel so bad now when it happens to me!
“If prayer is nothing more than a sequence of words, then maybe theology is nothing more serious than grammar.”
What a lovely line. Having grown up devoutly Evangelical, I can relate to a lot in this piece, inlcuding playing hide and seek in our church building. Except we called it “Sardines” as one person would hide and everybody had to find that person and hide with them. I also grew up in Oregon and we went camping at Cove Palisades, where I loved finding my own, often dangerously precarious, nooks in the rock face of the high desert. I suppose finding our nooks of faith can be at least as precarious.
Thanks for a lush and thoughtful read.
Sadness within the beauty, but also hope and comfort in the enduring mother-daughter bond.
Thanks so much, Marianna! And apologies for such a belated reply!
Beautifully done. So moving with such economy of words.
I love this, pure and simple. You guys are lucky to have each other
to navigate a world that can be so harsh. So glad you didn’t give up on him.
I’m destroyed. That was riveting.
Emma, I enjoyed this earnest, fine piece of writing.
I love your work. It touches me. I read “Gulf Coast 1977” some years ago and have had it on my Frig since then. Thank you.
Thank you so very much for the lovely words. They mean a great deal to me!
Beautiful told story Chanta about unimaginable loss. We all have a language of love and yours is food, which brings you back to your early childhood and a time of happiness and innocence, your parents but especially your mother. You are a truly caring giving and loving person. Viktor Frankl came to mind as I read your story.
I feel honored to have read the book in its entirety. In it, many images are almost too painful to remember but too important to forget.
Everything we need to know about love is right here in this story about caring for a hurt creature. I love it so much.
Exquisite! The imagery and language are just stunning.
Oh Sue! It’s lovely. Thank you for sharing.
Thanks so much, Kim!
This is a(nother) wonderful story of Cambodian survival and resilience. I was there during the war (as a journalist) and amidst everything fell in love with the country’s silk weavings, which are available at https://mekongblue.ecwid.com/ – gorgeous work and most reasonable prices.
Robin, thank you for sharing that sales link and the information about Mekong Blue! We (Chantha and I, her daughter Clara, the women of SWDC) appreciate it so much!
Remarkable. I would love to translate this into Syrian-Arabic if you’d allow me. Please let me know.
I love your way of telling this love story. Thank you.
Amazing, Lo. So much love in my heart for you. -Anne
I am deeply impressed by the illuminating story and the author’s command of the language. They made me think of Kurt Vonnegut’s best.
I absolutely love this, Gavin. It’s beautiful and anguished, and so well told.
Very interesting. To this day I have had several names. Each name is attached to particular part or phase of my life. Curiously, the name I love the most is the one my mother and father used before their deaths, “Nelvin,” and was used throughout my high school days – but not since.
For my career, family, and Writing I have mostly been “Melvin” or “Mel,” which has been ambivalent most of the time.
Now I go by the name “Django” which I chose when I became a deep musician, and which I handed down to my son.
So today, when one asks what is “Mi Llamo?” I often think to myself, “Which Me do you want to know?”
Thanks
Hello Michelle – I just spent some time looking at your website and I am so excited to talk to you! I sent an email last week but have not heard back yet. You were recommended to me by Marcia Maier as a prospective copy editor for the unusual parenting book I am working on. I hope you will reach out soon. Thank you!
I love this! You are a good person for that dog, and he is perfectly yours.
Heartbreaking and magnificent. Thank you for telling your story.
Excellent story. There is so much more than what the title protrays in this piece. It certainly paints a picture of two brothers and their relationship together. Loved it.
So touching! Chantha, I can’t wait to read the entire book. I feel so honored to have met and gotten to know you.
❤️
Gayle Jordan
The language is so beautiful—so fresh, vibrant, alive. The story is powerful, devastating in the most human way. Thank you for this beautiful piece.
Thank you so much, BK!
This is beautiful, Nita. I’ll think of it whenever I need to remember the hard truths of aging and steel myself for the repetitions and rages.
Hi Kandi, this is Dan McManus. You bought my Jayco trailer. I lost your number, but wanted to let you know I received a re alll notice for the propane regulator. Email or give me a call and I will get you the notice.
Suzanne – I’ve written “stuff” for years (research papers, articles for clubs, a blog for over a decade now) but I’ve never written a book. Now I’m thinking about it. So I took a moment to search online for some guidance and stumbled upon your post here.
Just wanted to say your keen observations and your turn of phrases are beautiful and so inspiring to a 61 year old novice! Thank you for sharing your beautiful writing with me and giving one more lens to use in exploring my writing!
By the way, I attempted to include my URL as requested below – but kept getting an error message to “enter URL.” You might want to have your web guru check that out for you!
All of this information is for the 2020 contest. I’m wondering about the 2021, or even perhaps 2022 contest. Is there one? Or both? What is the due date? THANK YOU!!
Extraordinary. Very well written.
Where is that sign? I’ve traveled all over Oklahoma and have never seen it and I’d love to take my own pic.
Intriguing short story. I read through it twice for all the details to sink in and come together.
“What will I be doing someday when I receive my fate? What will be left unfinished?” – Those two sentences really leave you thinking….
Congratulations, Allison! You are an inspiration and the award is well deserved. Thanks for all you put out for writers in the world! xo Kathie
Very descriptive I felt like I was in the corner an unseen observer. My grandmother also had a kerosene heater as described in this vignette taking me back to the memories I have of that time with her.
Thank you for this gripping, candid reflection. Strikes close to heart home.
I’ve read this twice now. I don’t do that often, but this story really puts you in a thoughtful mood. It’s worth a read.
Fantastic story! Couldn’t take my eyes off the page. Well done!
I loved this. The description is perfect- I could smell the kerosene, feel the heat of the room and sense the despair this young man had for being in a position where his soul will forever be darkened, no matter what decision he made.
I’m very impressed and hope to read more from this author.
I’m intrigued. I’d like to see/read/envision where this story goes…
Emotional read, you can really feel the relationship and tension between all the characters. Love the visual descriptions.
Kandi, it’s Clint. It seems I’ve lost your contact info but found you here. I’m leaving LA in a few days heading north. I’ll be stopping to see whomever of my old friends I can find. Greg has just moved back into his property in Paradise and the house is going up. I’m intending to stop in. He doesn’t seem well at all. Please send your contact info and maybe we can meet.
What a powerful and beautiful story. Masterful writing.
Hello Marie ! Haven’t been to the Christmas Store lately, but just this morning, finished reading the intro to ‘Archetypal Figures in Hemingway’s, “Snows of Kilemamjaro”‘ by David Anderson. Clearly a synchronicity : )
What a gorgeous piece! The language grabbed me right away and didn’t let go. I was in that gym with the narrator and the boys. Holding my breath to see what would happen. Caring about the characters. Pulled into their world. Wanting them to make it. And that ending….wow. Brava!
So moving……
This seems very real, heartfelt and well-written! I hope Morgan’s MFA is going well, and that we will get to hear much more from her! I hope sincerely that she will get to be seen!
Brilliant hard hitting sparing no emotion of what once was joy but has turned to sorrow
Want to read more of your compelling depiction
What a gift you have.
Congratulations to Allison, so well-deserved, this recognition! Little did I know that participating in her master class and roundtable critique via SCBWI -WWA last June would lead to membership of an amazingly supportive community. A world of possibilities has opened up. From daily co-work sessions to finding out about publishing platforms such as Brevity and Hippocampus Magazine, Insta Pods, not to mention the writing spurt I experience daily.
Powerful piece here, Joey! Really appreciate what you did and your writing about it so that I could almost experience it myself. Thank you.
I appreciate you, June! Thank you for your lovely feedback!
Beautiful. My mom’s 90 and regularly repeats questions and repeats stories. She’s not diagnosed with dementia and I don’t think she has it. But it’s my impatient replies to her that I recall with guilt. I get so focused on my own life and time constraints. I forget to see her actions as her own and see them as intrusions on my time and sanity. Thank you for opening my eyes to a picture of my mom and sometimes in the picture my dad, passed at 92 yo in 2010, sitting next to her. She’s just anxious and I don’t go see her enough. Thank you
I think it’s coming for my mom, too. But I don’t know how to explain it. Thank you for putting words to this.
Interesting article, but it is a shame that you have thrown away your ethical & rich heritage. If you never learned much about Judaism, you owe it to yourself & your children to learn about it before you discard it. Being a self-respecting, knowledgeable Jew is a positive, not a negative. I lived once in a small town where they were very few Jews, and my contribution while I was there was to seize the opportunity to answer their questions & explain to many non-Jews something about my heritage. Most of them had never met a Jew before so I was very conscious of the fact that it was important for me to present a positive image and the true facts.
Hi Karen,
Thank you for your interesting article on the subject of Lev Tahoe. I am just “down the road” from you in Windsor Ontario. This was also the talk of our community and featured what felt like daily in our newspaper. At the time Chatham-kent was an area I covered for work.
I had several meetings at your Superstore meeting room, where I was asked what I thought about them. I was the only Jew many of my committee members had ever met. It was an interesting time!
Thank you, Holly Hagman for this insightful & smart write-up of my breakout session on constrained writing at HippoCamp last month. This is a wonderful and illuminating take on a subject I love, and it’s refreshing to visit my beloved stomping grounds and see it all through someone else’s fresh perspective!
wonderful interviewer, wonderful interviewee, wonderful interview. gonna buy me the book.Thanks for this, Morgan.
I love your descriptive writing! Very immersive.
I’d love to hear more from Jess!
Love this. Vivid and heartfelt.
Suzanne, you never fail to amaze me. You speak of shape . As I read your piece I could see the words coming off the paper backed up by the same words becoming a shadow pile of print.
I don’t know how clear I am but I love reading what you write.
Beautiful story
Bravo!
What a stunning beautiful story
Heartbreaking
Lovely
Ouch. Beautiful story.
S – thank you for giving precise/explicit, fiercely moving, entirely recognizable voice to the lived experience of so many of us. Brava! Including your essay in my list of all-time-favorites.
Exotic narration of two stories in parallel !
It’s a heart wrenching, wonderful work Linda. Shows your mastery over the music and the language
Really fine piece, very evocative with just the right amount of grit, and clearly every word describing that time and place was earned through living it.
Just gorgeous. Congratulations on a beautiful piece that captures new motherhood so well.
What a lovely piece, Jennifer. I’m so sorry for the loss of your dear friend. By writing you are still connected to Monica just as writing connects each of us to the world. Your piece made me think of the poem by Alden Nowlan, “An Exchange of Gifts”. Writing is, indeed, such a gift. Thanks for sharing yours with us.
What a wonderful piece. Like Judith (below) I read this following a link on Marion Roach Smith’s blog. I was with you all the way, feeling your panic at the prospect of having to go home. (Yes, falling over would top the list.) Isn’t it strange how in times of strife and struggle we come to see the full generosity of others.
Thank you, Becky. When I think back on it now it all seems so surreal.
What a poetic writing, Linda. I feel like I am flowing with your music and your feelings. What a great gift you have given yourself, following your dreams and playing the chords in your life.
Thank you, Deborah!
What a lovely story. I’m writing a book about loss so I was particularly attuned to the story and could feel the vibrations. You affirmed yourself, comforted yourself and now shared it all with others. What a gift!
Thank you. I’m glad you felt the story.
I really loved reading this- So touching in so many ways. Without saying it, you show how you are supported and surrounded by loving people, your friends, your husband. I like how subtly you have fit these in between the words, just as music also does.
Thank you, Caren.
Gorgeous. Music and memory, so intertwined. And married here to lovely prose.
Thank you, Lisa!
Absolutely exquisite, Linda.
Thank you, Jayne.
Jennifer, I enjoyed that little piece. I expected it to be about handling the successive rejections of being a writer rather than about rejection for a dream job. In the end, it was really about something else entirely: realizing why you write. Your old couple reminded me of a scene when I was 25 sitting at Hot Shoppes, reading a letter from a woman friend who was hitching her way through Africa. As I read her letter intently, an old woman walked over to the table and said, “I know things aren’t going to well back at home and there’s nothing I can do to help, but maybe this ten dollars will be of some use to you. You have to take it. I have to do this every so often.” And I did. I actually needed that money. At the time, I aspired to write, and did, but never thought of publishing. I didn’t even know one could publish the sort of thing I wrote. I sealed everything I wrote during a five year period in a box when I took a “real job” ( meaning, instead of substitute teaching), married, and began raising a family. I still wrote and shared things with friends, but nearly all of that vanished. I began again and then said it’s time to retire and pick up where I left off some 35 years ago. Now, I’m a novice, and have to adjust to a rejection rate that far exceeds anything I ever experienced when I wrote proposals to get funding for projects. Compared to submitting to lit journals, that was a near sure thing. Anyway, I liked your piece a lot. A long time ago, I worked with Betty Hubbard at Central Arkansas. I think she’s still working. If you ever cross paths with her, you’ll be glad you did. Thank you.
Another great tip on craft, Nicole. Especially reminding us that beyond “show, don’t tell” lies the need for intentional and delicate balancing of show AND tell.
Thanks, Karen! Glad to hear you enjoyed the article 🙂
As a person thinks, so he/she IS. To be in war is to be conditoned to violence, unless one can learn to identify with the soul and the God Within each of us. God is Love, God is Good and it is mankind who creates evil in our world, by way of one’s thougths.
The Broder story is touching and brings one to things internal and perhaps eternal. All is energy and all energy vibrates. Cetain vibrations resonate to the soul and bring joy to the heart. Such is her story. Blessings to her. Don Crawford
Thank you.
Jayne, heard about your piece from Marion Roach Smith. I’m not a crier, but this brought tears to my eyes. Beautifully done.
Thank you, so much Judith. Marion is wonderful. I also have a piece called “The Only Child” here from the February 2015 issue that she helped me with.
It’s stunning, Jayne. i just want to hug you after reading it. And yes, Marion is wonderful!!!
Hug received! Thank you. 🙂
I was absolutely riveted. Beautifully told.
Thank you, Dana.
Wow! I read this twice, hanging onto every word. So touching, Jayne! Thank you.
Thank you, Pegylu.
Such a moving and resonant piece, Jayne. Thanks so much for writing it. <3
Thank you, Kathy.
Wonderfully written! It is incredibly moving…
Thanks, Barrie
I’m deeply moved by this beautiful essay.
Thank you so much, Tony.
So terribly wonderful! You are truly skillful at your craft. I love to read your stories and truth is always so powerful.
Thank you, Kathie.
Jayne, the length!!!!!! And breadth of this. Wow. Love it.
LOL! The length… I know. Can you believe it? Thank you, Gay.
Remarkable writing from a gifted author. When I first read the title of Sara’s essay, I thought it would be about a woman caring for her aging husband. How interesting to me still to read portions of it from that perspective. My beloved will be 81 soon and doesn’t need care like an infant. Quite the contrary. He still runs, lifts weights, walks the woods with me. But constancy and my nearness, now more than ever. A gift, really, but I sense the shadow.
This moved me to tears! Wonderful essay, Linda. This is just gorgeous.
Thank you for sharing your music. You can feel your soul when you play. I am so blessed to have heard your harp in person.
Wow. Thanks, Denise!
Thank you, Windy!
Reminds me of when I had to leave Israel and return to Australia – albeit unwillingly. Left my boyfriend behind, my friends on the kibbutz and the memories of my time alone, free to be me without criticism.
Nicole–I stumbled upon your story just the other day. Captured by your words, I have read it three times and each time I’ve been taken back to an effervescent young girl in catcher’s gear. I think of you and your parents often first with a smile and then with a shake of my head. Wishing you well.
Terri,
Thank you for your response. It means a lot that you took the time to read and reach out.
Best,
Nicole Piasecki
Out on a bike ride yesterday, I listened to your detailed story of being a future writer via your heartbreaking story of loss. I was enthralled, saddened, and in awe of the picture you painted. This may sound strange, but
I will forward it to a couple inmates I mentor that are accomplished professional writers. I am so sorry that your family endured (endures) this pain. I am just amazed at how your story lead to something I never saw coming. (I mentor inmates through a group called The Prisoner’s Hope and my own Facebook group REimagine Justice). Peace.
Love the story. It took me back to another time, but I could still smell the soft sweet smell of my grandmas perfume lingering in a scarf. I couldn’t put it down, it came home with me also.
This is a great post. Your honesty is so refreshing! As someone on the periphary of the adventure community I am always asking myself this question (“Why do we do it?”), and now as a mom I am continually asking myself the question “What do I want my children to value about the outdoors?” I lost part of my leg in a climbing fall, and since, have come to know many folks in the climbing world who have also suffered accidents. There seems to be an obsessive nature to many folks, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing….if it includes hanging with a community you love. Still, danger, potential injury, life-changing circumstances are always there. It is helpful hearing from the folks left behind as it helps put things in perspective.
I am so sorry to hear about your brother. He did sound like an amazing guy. It also seems he was well loved. Thank you for sharing his story and your experience.
I had my first and last full body massage almost ten years ago. I went with my wife and we were escorted to separate rooms. I had no idea what to expect. The massage therapist was much older than I. I was in my mid twenties and she was in her late 60s. I was not attracted to her in any way. However, to my surprise during the massage I had an intense erection. I was utterly embarrassed. She did not say anything about it. I was terrified and had trouble relaxing. To this day I have not returned for fear of it happening again. I am researching the topic to muster the courage to try again.
I recognize my own life in these words. I mean that as the deepest compliment.
This is lovely! Thanks so much for sharing your story. Keep writing!
I love this, Sandra. All the sensory detail.
And to the laundromat woman, I say, well bless your heart, darlin’.
Wow.
Always a good thing when the story makes me cry. Thank you.
Your father was a guiding light in my life. He made me believe in myself and gave me the push I needed to go to college. He made me see things in a new way. He took some of us seniors of the Breckenridge Class of 1985 to Washington DC. It was a new and exciting world but he made us look at the darker side, the homeless people on the streets. It was a look at a very different world than the one we were living in. I grieve for you and your brother still today and always will. I am so happy that you have found your way in life.
I have a couple of very old, very faded photos of that trip if you would like them. Just let me know and I will email them to you
Sue,
Thank you for sharing this! I think about stories from that D.C. trip regularly. My brother (age 9) went with you all and I stayed home. You guys told my brother you’d give him a penny for every truck he counted on the road between Breckenridge, MI and Washington D.C. Luckily, he didn’t collect. 🙂
I’d love to have any picture you are willing to share.
Best,
Nicole
email me at suetemplemomof4@gmail.com and I will send them to you
This is beautifully written. I love the different perspectives and ending with such haunting questions makes the reader stop and pause. Congratulations!
Thanks for reading and commenting, Terri!
I’d say that you’re still there. Your DNA lurks in the soil from the light switches, rope swing, and water dribbling down your chin. The farmer may have bought the land, but you still own what stood on it. He can’t buy memories and the influence in your life from living on that piece of home.
Wow! These are so good. I thoroughly enjoyed reading these SSs (short stories) – and crying. So beautifully written from the heart. Thank you.
Thanks, Tony, for this intriguing review. You’ve roused my curiosity.
Outstanding. Loved it.
<3 completely beautiful.
I remember so well the day this happened. I lived in Chelsea and my kids went to high school with Nicole.
Horrible incident. Mr. and Mrs. Leith were 2 of my kids favorite teachers. I’ll never forget it.
Karyn,
Thanks for reading and responding.
Nicole
After immersing myself in much of this journal’s intense writing that exquisitely portrays the of pain, loss, and grief of life (including my own), this delightful piece made me laugh aloud and cheer for the author. Sometimes we just take ourselves and our bodies (whatever size) too seriously. What a fun story!
The wolf encounter is exciting–the descriptions make me feel as if I were there.
Found out about this article from the Yellowstone National Park Employees site on Facebook.
Love this raw, personal and poignant short. Thank you Audrey Jennifer Smith for sharing your Tough Titties!
This artfully crafted essay exposes the raw and honest experience of living with personal trauma. As the story draws the reader through to its profound end, one is left to wonder how the universe really works. Irony. Indeed.
This piece is ALIVE. There is not a wasted a word and every description bristles. I mourned the cat (I lost a kitty to a garage door, too) and hated the VW right along with her.
“The days are long and the years are short.” You’d be amazed how loudly a quiet empty nest can cry. Enjoy! And keep on writing. That’s what I did.
I suffer from PTSD after an accident. I have many fears. Your essay gave me hope that you can come out of this and reminded me that others suffer, too. Hope you keep getting better.
Compassionate from all standpoints, including mother. And as a psychologist, that’s the reality of humanity. A beautiful and haunting piece.
I may only be echoing the words others have already written, but feel compelled to comment anyway; since I was so moved by your story. As someone else had written, I was captured from the very first line I read. The story telling was masterful. You lay exposed all the crevices of your mind and soul, and carried us with you on your journey. It left me with many thoughts, as most well-written pieces do.
Riveting and expertly crafted. So sorry for your loss. I’m fascinated that your fear subsided. One would imagine it only intensifying. Did your doctor have an explanation for this?
Im so proud of all of you but just kind of partial to my girl Brittany. They were all very well written soul searching, thought provoking , etc. Etc. Stories and also some hard moments for some to relive in writing so thank you for sharing your heart and soul to each and every one of you! Melanie mason
This is my story too! Thank you for writing!
Stunning. Thank you.
Beautiful and powerful – love the comparison between the landscape and your self. I’m so glad I had the chance to meet you and talk on the dawning of my 5th decade on this earth! ~ JoEllen (from Casa Del Mundo)
Christy, this essay is filled with such powerful imagery and detail that I could picture the inside of the car and smell the smoke and fuel. The description of your cat’s death is heart wrenching. I did not know that V-Beetles easily caught fire.
Nice recommendation. Thanks for sharing
Stunning. My heart raced and broke with you. Be well.
This essay drew me in from the first line until the last. You are an incredible writer. I’m in awe of how you managed to pull the pieces of this tragedy and your fearful obsession together into a coherent and insightful narrative. Condolences on the loss of your father. Bravo, Evelyn.
Beautifully written. Love the representation of brown, in an array of contexts, its parallels with good and evil.
Powerful piece. The depth of emotion in this story, all that you went through processing such trauma, amazing to read.
Great article. I, also, was an English major in the 1990s, and didn’t really “get” Joan Didion until later in life. I recently watched the movie Joan Didion: The Center Will Not Hold, and was again blown away by what an interesting person she is. I’ve learned so much from her writing and how she put her experiences into written form. I’m sorry that you have not yet had a chance to cross paths with her…here’s hoping!
~Kristen Gill
http://www.kristengill.com
I’m in – ready to read this amazing story
Wow! I loved that. The imagery was magical. it was a sensuous mix of poetry and pose. Thank you.
Beautiful story, Jenny. Thank you. I spent healing time in the Boundary Waters 20 years ago and those days and nights are still balm to my soul. Take good care.
Mr. Ives writes like his sister Kit paints & draws & crafts. Genius stream of consciousness.
Outstanding. Congratulations, Brittany, on a truly haunting essay. You’ve perfectly captured the child perspective, while slowly revealing the too-adult truths that had to endured. I second Matt M.’s compliment — this is a story that sticks in the brain. Well done!
I love this essay. Your love and admiration for your mom just shine through! I’m sorry she didn’t get to revel in her long-awaited party, and I hope that she gets to enjoy the tail-end (also my favorite part) of many parties to come!
This was deeply moving. And beautifully written. Thank you. And please keep writing.
Blake,
You tackled a raw and vulnerable subject in a raw and vulnerable way, laying bare your emotions for the reader to parse out. It was a pleasure to read. Congratulations on your place as a finalist!
Nina,
I thought this piece was so clever, and each time I read it, the cleverness became more apparent to me. I’ve no doubt your ability to take care of and protect yourself comes in no small measure from the power you hold over your writing subjects. It was really crafted and the balance of your characters was spot-on. Congrats again.
Thank you for your kind words, Dina!
Sarah, congratulations on your essay. I was moved reading it, and was blown away by your use of language throughout, which to my ear, matched your theme perfectly. It’s an important topic, and you handled it marvelously. Congrats again.
Gwen, this kept me enthralled from beginning to end. The mix of medical detail with human interest was a perfect balance. I read it several times, and each time I kept hoping the outcome would be different–that’s how good the writing was. Congratulations!
Dear Anne,
Congratulations on your winning essay! It left me breathless with both nostalgia and hope, as well as a deeper appreciation for the bonds we have as a family. It was a beautiful essay. Congratulations again!
Dear Yvonne,
Congratulations on your essay, it was a privilege to be a part of the process this year! I came back to your essay again and again and was impressed with the imagery, the mastery of your subject matter, and the way you tied it all together. There were beautiful small details and touches as well as the overarching themes and they were woven together perfectly. Congratulations again, it is a wonderful piece of writing.
Really loved this piece.
Your are brave, Sarah. I wish you continued healing. I hope you continue to write.
Having had first hand experience with a loved one dying from burns, this was very hard for me to read. The story is powerful and I commend you. Congratulations.
This heart-wrenching essay, beautifully told, took such courage. Congratulations on being one of Remember in November’s finalists!
Blake, you are, without a DOUBT, a writer!! To write something of such sadness, ethos and poetry at 27 simply makes me envious. I read this piece several times–it’s stunning.
I will never forget this essay. Very few stories actually have me catching my breath from sadness and despair. Despite the straight-forward narrative style, Gwen beautifully captures the tension, focus, vulnerability and tragedy of life and death emergency care. Really wonderful work, and congratulations on being a finalist!
Wow. I kept trying to slow down, to savor the words. But I honestly could NOT wait for the next line. And then the next. Oh, gosh – thank you so much for sharing that. I know it will stay with me for a very long time.
Breathtaking. Really fabulous to have the experience – a taste – of such love as you have for your sister. Swept up and away. Thank you!
That was absolutely lovely. You captured the beauty, mystery, and unflinching love of sisters that endure the battle and tend to one another’s scars. Brava!
Congratulations, Anne. This breathtaking piece is full of poetry and so much sisterly love I can feel it all the way here in Boston.
An incredible Doctor and women that I have had the pleasure of working with….miss you Gwen?
I miss you too – best bedside nurse ever!
Great review, Jen! I’ve never heard of this book, but I can certainly relate to its content from my own experiences as well as my female child’s, who didn’t want to go to school when she had her period because there were no trash dispensers in the stalls (in elementary school). Her fear that the girls who hadn’t yet become “women” would tease her was too much for her to bear.
Thank you so much for introducing me to your “literary crush”. I read Joan’s Year of Magical Thinking but haven’t yet discovered her earlier works.
That’s my sister, and she has done an awsome job!! I remember gram like that and how she used to say the things she did. Love and miss u grandma. My sister tells in such great detail makes u feel like u were really there. Again great job sissy!!!
Oh yes! This was the menu of my childhood as well. I enjoyed this from start to finish.
Good illustrations of what it means to be an authentic human–reminds me of some friends I have known and an old saying one of them is fond of saying, “If you don’t have any scars, you haven’t showed up for life!”
That last line killed me. Killed me.
Thanks for this. My mother was totally embarrassed by my fatness. Her other children were “normal”. She involved a platoon of other adults in an effort to control “Harry’s weight problem”. It’s a long narrative which I’ll share with anyone who’s interested.
This is some story. And I thought my dad was difficult…
Wow….great writing & amazing that you & your sister found forgiveness….I have not yet for my abusive stepfather…
this needs to be a book. or a film.
This is a great piece of writing. Although clearly falling under the rubrics of both memoir and feminist, it also could be found in the terror genre given that your father was such an (unconscious) ogre. Thank heavens you survived!
This is such intense detailed writing! Very engaging…
Hi Beverly: A lovely piece, as are several other pieces of yours I’ve found after finding this one tonight. You’re a very gifted writer, subtle and soulful.
My wife of 36 years, Jeanne, passed away in 2007 after a long illness. Much to my surprise I eventually met someone else, married Julie in 2012, and now I’m the 75-year-old stepfather of a 17-year-old boy! My natural son Jacob, if natural son is the way to put it, is 40 and a musician. Both he and my stepson Sawyer — also a musician; he plays alto saxophone in the Highland Park High School marching band and wind ensemble — are terrific kids, if one can speak of a 40 year old as a kid.
Wow – just wow! I loved this so much – please keep writing!
Bravo Brittany – Bravo!
My father entered a home for Alzheimer’s patients earlier this year so this story resonates. The ‘wish with one hand’ line is just the kind of thing he and my aunts would say routinely – after a while I realized they weren’t reciting; coming up with that kind of phrase is actually an on-the-spot skill. And yes – you see that fleeting glimmer for a moment and you know they’re in there. Nicely done.
Thank you so much. I am so sorry you and your family are going through this horrible experience. I have learned that somtimes laughter is the best way to make it through. Laughter and never forgetting that the bad parts we see are the dementia, not our loved ones. They are still in there, and it is our job to remember that and love on them every chance we get! Thank you for taking the time to comment on my story. Prayers for you and your family!!
Like so many excellent pieces of writing I’ve read over the years it still needs a final sentence
I suspect this story is going to stay with me long after this first reading. The moment her mother is described as picking at her face we see what Mom’s real problem is, or has eventually become. So much in this story is shown and not told, it’s what makes it truly strong. If ‘Driving’ hasn’t already been nominated for a Pushcart, it needs to be. The quality of writing here is the reason I continue to follow and purchase small press magazines
Thank you, Matt.
What do you mean about the mom picking her face and then we know the reason why? I didn’t work that out can you help me understand? I loved this piece though and will be buying her book soon as it’s out. Amazing writing
I was just watching a Smithsonian documentary last night about (of all people) Eddie Van Halen, and among other things his description of the bullying he took when his family first immigrated. He was unable to speak the language and I suspect that, later when he reinvented the guitar and developed his sound, that bullying had a direction impact on why his theory was always ‘bigger is better.’ Interesting thought that ‘God Don’t Like Ugly’ could have a sequel, one that shows a grown-up Creature, what effect that episodes like this might have had.
What a wonderful story and so beautifully told. The sadness of reality filled with the hope of memories which fade. Lovely! — Judy
Thank you so much!
Beautiful, just Beautiful!
Thank you!
Beautifully written. Loved it!
Thank you! I am so glad you liked it!
loved it!
Thank you!
Amazing story! Wording is so captivating and kept me engaged the whole time. The usage of pathos is really powerful *tears*.
Powerful and sad. Makes one think of all the stupid and hurtful things most of us did as children that were born of our own insecurity and fear…brilliant and important writing.
Just lovely❤️
Thank you!!!
Thank you so much!!
I feel like I just found out my dog died, or my daddy left, or something,g. Damn.
This is brilliant. Just brilliant
I really enjoyed reading this. I think many writers can and will relate to what you have written. Inspiring and talented. Thank you for sharing. You made this writer’s day.
Been receiving massages for years now, every so often getting an errection.
Sometimes, it’s even a male massage therapist.
Am I gay? Certainly not, I just have extreme issues with blood flow and nerves through my hips.
When touched on my butt thighs or abdomen, I will probably get an errection, even if it was Rosie O’Donald.
While getting my massage last week, I got an errection.
At the moment I’m incapable of sexually relieving myself, thus my anxiety towards the situation was at its highest.
Thankfully she didn’t say anything and just continued, or so I thought.
Today I had the horrible experience of going into my Doctors office to be told that she won’t be seeing me anymore cause i got an errection, by multiple people in the office whom I didn’t disclose this information to, or tell the massage therapist too.
It was extremely embarassing doing the walk of shame out of my Doctors office with everyone knowing I had an errection the other day.
Having severe depression and Autism, the incident threw me into a suicidal episode.
Even though I need massages on a regular basis to function, I’m not sure I could work up the courage to see another one.
I just hope this world kills me before I do at this point. :/
Taylor, please call this number if you’re ever feeling the way you describe in your comment: 1-800-273-8255 – it’s the national suicide prevent hotline, and someone is there 24/7. There is also a website: https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/.
Beautiful story. You were my third grade Nun at St Catherine’s, Sister James then. I was a terribly shy child. I always thought you were such a beautiful woman, although at the time I’m pretty sure I didn’t even realize that nuns were even regular people, who used the bathroom and had hair. Your eyes are just as riveting as they were then. I enjoy writing myself, satire is my joy. My sister Julie told me to read this and I’m so glad she did.
Wow! This is wonderful, Margie. I remember you! Thanks so much for reading and for leaving this message. And thanks to Julie for sharing it with you! I would love to read some of your satire.
Brilliant and beautiful piece of writing. Love the advice to “stay open” – to be open and receptive to the possibility that there’s more to the story than we immediately recall. I’m fascinated by story, how our minds process what happens to us, how our memories work, etc. Thanks for sharing your story.
Thank you, Dianne, for your lovely comment. I’m fascinated by story, too, the narratives of our lives–the larger arc, the smaller stories.
This is a lovely reflection. That you were insightful enough to see beyond a forgetful man and a clumsy girl to the beautiful people inside speaks volumes. I feel like this was an important read for me this morning, as today I move my great-aunt into a memory care facility. It’s such a huge step from the independent living place she was for a year, or even the personal care place that followed. I’m a little nervous about being around people who are lower functioning. Thanks for the reminder to look beyond.
Thank you so much for reading and for your comment. I understand your trepidation as it is always a little scary to do something we are not used to doing. My mother has been living in a nursing home for the last 12 years, prior to that she was in assisted living for ten years due to early-onset dementia. It used to be difficult for me to go to the nursing home. I’m a shy person in general, so when someone talks to me without a filter (which in my experience happens more commonly at the nursing home–partly a result of cognition, partly as a result of folks being older and bolder ?), I often fumble. I’m getting better at it, but I do have to bolster my resolve, and also leave my ego at the door. Before I had my daughter I didn’t have the opportunity to be around many people with disabilities, now I know to just treat all the people I meet respectfully, and to presume comepetence. Even when people are being unkind, or difficult, or behaving in a way that makes me uncomfortable, I try to understand why they are acting that way. I remind myself that everyone is someone who is or was loved dearly by someone. I imagine how once they were more than likely, cradled in the arms of a parent or sibling or grandparent, aunt, uncle, who loved and wanted the best for them. It’s easier that way to see the humanity in everyone. That and a sense of humor can get you through most things. Good luck!
So true: everyone deserves to be treated with respect. I should clarify: mostly I’m nervous about my aunt’s reaction to the different memory issues and accompanying behaviors, especially worried about her just being afraid. So far she’s doing ok – amused, curious, but not fearful or panicking which I was worried about.
Such a wonderful story. Thanks for sharing ??
Thank you, Penny!
This article really spoke to me, thank you! I have been writing “bits and pieces” in various notebooks for many years. I have always had to hold down a full time, “proper job”, but am beginning to move into a new phase, writing every day, even if it’s just a couple of sentences as they occur to me. I can be brushing my teeth, getting ready for work, but I drop what I’m doing so that I can write (yes,with a pen) whatever is going through my head. I am working on a sequel to my first, self-published non-fiction book and have the entire thing in my head. The sentences, paragraphs and chapters come to me in dribs and drabs and eventually, they will become my next book. I am inspired by your words and encouraged by your honesty. Thank you.
Go you, Deborah! I’m so glad this post resonated with you. It can be so hard to keep holding time for the work of writing, when life keeps getting in the way, but clearly, some of us just HAVE to. 🙂
Outstanding–thank you, Rae, for your candor and the way you express yourself!
And thank YOU for the kind words, Ann!
Wonderful, Nicole. My brain’s pinging with ideas. Thank you!
Thank you for reading, Shirley, and for your comment. I’m glad my “story behind the story” has got your neurons firing. Wonderful!
I grew up in CT and just hearing the names of the rivers brings me back. Lovely piece.
I really liked this a lot. The way you knit it together worked so well. I loved the balloon section.
A very good book report, but it doesn’t capture the excitement of reading the book itself. For that, you might refer to “PILLE: ‘Japanese Girl at the Siege of Changchun’ is honest, dark memoir.” The translation was written to make full use of the English language, not to slavishly follow grammarian’s rules.
Thanks for the honest review of this book. It sounds like something I should read–eventually–given that I’m writing a play, and love going to Broadway shows.
My favorite part about this is the unsure sort of dance at the beginning that ensues between the man and the narrator (you). Is he speaking to her ? Has he chosen her? For the end to play out a yearning for more so smoothly, I thought you were able to achieve this progression between the characters beautifully. Also, at the beginning you point out the woman has infected fingernails and by the end you focus on her whole hand in a playful game that is made complete by the mother. To me, this was very thoughtful and healing.
Thank you so much for your thoughtful comments, Daniele.
So so good.
Love this, Penny. So beautifully written and poignant.
Gorgeously written; so layered and complicated, like life.
Tricia, this is lovely and puts some often-absent focus on “the other sibling” and what that life can be, might be…and it is also interesting to see *you* on the outside looking in, for a change, but with far more curiosity, connection, and understanding than most.
Thanks for your kind words, Sara. So many perspectives to consider.
As a teacher, I have seen families fail “the other child” while focussing on the one with disabilities or behavior problems. But this is a powerful statement about those other families that make love and concern a way of life and path of beauty.
Thank you for reading, Jan. It can be difficult to spread the attention around with more than one child for sure.
Slid me right into tears. Thank you.
I reiterate what Stephen has said. The story of Danny and your own struggle in life could only be told in this simple (though by no means lacking anything) way.
Beautifully written, so impressed by your words.
Patricia,
Thank you for sending your story. I can truly appreciate it, since I also was a SSJ for 8 years and am now happily married.
Marie
Marie! So happy you read this. Think of you often.
Absolutely awesome piece. Wish I could be pithier right now. 🙂
Beautiful, poignant story, well told, Patricia. Thank you for writing this.
Katherine! I never got to post a thanks for your comment although I know we spoke about it. So glad you enjoyed the essay.
As a very dorky writer mom of a byrashul 1-year-old son and wife of a black man, this article made me laugh, snicker, gasp and cry. Thank you for sharing your story in a witty self-deprecating and insightful way.
Beautiful essay. I especially love the vivid details, the sense of place.
Beautiful story – My mother also died from heart failure, very recently. Brave women, and you are very brave.
Thanks for sharing your story, and I am sorry for your loss. I found writing about my mother’s death was very healing.
Powerful AND simple. Thank you, Jen, for your stories. They are all our stories.
WOW Jayne, just wow. Some of the most beautiful writing I’ve ever read.
Many thanks for posting this. Bizarrely (is it bizarre?) I still can’t bring myself to talk much about this subject. The human story is a tragedy.
I’ve been thinking about this comment for awhile now. We all talk when we are ready. It took me 20 years.
Thanks for reading and responding.
Nicole
I’m so shocked. Thank you so much for sharing this. <3
Well. That is s scene well seen, a tale well told. I feel privileged to read it.
Jules Older
David, you humble me. Nothing I might say to praise you would be as powerful as what you gave us. Thank you.
Jayne . . . you’re welcome. I appreciated your note.
So true…
Oh, yeah, now to my comments… I was really swept away and into the bus ride, feeling nervous for both the author, and then the passenger, and what might happen? or be misunderstood? The rhythm of the words may have made the rhythm of the bus ride synchronous? I don’t want to over think this piece, as it just spoke to me what it had to say…
whew…thank you David
Thank you, Careyleah. I think you’re right about the “synchronous”–though it was probably more serendipity than intention.
Had my first massage today and was worried sick about it happening to me, sure enough it did, I was so embarrassed!!
Beautiful! And who knew there were so many kinds of sand!
Well written and it touched a nerve. My son is a recovering alcoholic. I pray he doesn’t become Danny, but if he does I hope people are as generous of spirit with him as are you.
Love it!
Thank you!
Thanks, Casey, terrific advice using just the right words.
Thanks, David!
This is brilliant, shocking and heartbreaking.
I love how the writing has evoked in the reader the sense of unease that the children felt at times. Beautifully written and engaging.
Wow!
Thank you. I was unable to reply because my email has changed and I couldn’t confirm the address! I appreciate your taking the time to read.
Thanks for your review.
Stunning. Heart wrenching. Beautiful. I’ve spent a lot of time sorting out painful, senseless stuff. And I cannot express how grateful I am that you didn’t tie this piece up in neat and phony bow. At the same time, I wish you peace and healing. You already know that that this is a process. Your students are so lucky to have you as a teacher.
Thanks, Jake! I appreciate your response.
Incredible
? no words. You are so strong.
This is so absolutely well written. One of the most difficult yet, deserving of all the years you have invested into writing. We who are writers discern, digest and write at our own pace. May your heart have found some peace.
The statement: Maybe We Can Make a Circle. That sticks out in my mind.
There is a pond and I stand at the edge. In my hand is a stone. My anger makes me throw that stone as far as I can. When the stone crashes through the thin skin of water, it creates a circle; which is joined by an overlapping circle and onward into infinity.
There comes a time for everyone when we must release our barrier (be it anger or something else) to the world around us. Doing so opens us to others and we become enriched.
Nicole, I think of this as a koan. You most definitely have reached out and touched my soul. May the chanting of my soul reach out and embrace you with peace.
Thank you for your incredibly thoughtful response, Nigai.
Kindly,
Nicole
my word – a breathtakingly articulate account of an imaginable horror. I am moved by your account as indeed I should be. this sentence struck me hard “Maybe we can make a circle someday,” it said.
I’ve been wanting to ask you for years: What does that mean?’
and I felt the inadequacy of the response to you. And it also made me recall these words from Rumi :
Be helpless, dumbfounded,
Unable to say yes or no.
Then a stretcher will come from grace
to gather us up.
We are too dull-eyed to see that beauty.
If we say we can, we’re lying.
If we say No, we don’t see it,
That No will behead us
And shut tight our window onto spirit.
So let us rather not be sure of anything,
Beside ourselves, and only that, so
Miraculous beings come running to help.
Crazed, lying in a zero circle, mute,
We shall be saying finally,
With tremendous eloquence, Lead us.
When we have totally surrendered to that beauty,
We shall be a mighty kindness.
(Rumi, 13th century Persian poet and mystic)
You were privileged to have a father of stature and love, and it is an immense loss to bear his sudden , grim departure so young. I send my truest good wishes to you. Writing has helped me to live well – other peoples writing I mean, in the shape of Shakespeare, W.B.Yeats, W. Golding, Montaigne, Atwood – countless others. They inform how to look at the world differently, and shape the people we ourselves become.
Thanks for reading and responding, Anne.
Nicole, Your writing style is intense and unique in its ability to stay in the present moment as you recount your personal feelings and reactions to such a profoundly painful loss without clouding your rendition of your experience with judgement or any wisdom you may have eventually found in the process of dealing with such a harsh and sudden catastrophic loss, which hopefully you have found. But you ability to take anyone reading your story into your consciousness at that moment is very powerful, emotionally compelling and totally captivating in my opinion because I get the feeling that I’m there with you as you are responding to the insanity of violence to someone you love with all your heart, you are sharing raw emotions, your confusion, your pain, minute to minute without a hint that you know where it will go – which of course you do now looking back – but you don’t telescope it in your rendition of those awful, painful times. Some of the most compelling writing I’ve ever read.
Thank you, Richard!
I’m also a writer, didn’t write anything on net though as i never tried to, and i can say we writers feel it too much than others and i know it’s impossible to get a way out of it.You are a fabulous writer and I’ll love to learn something from you. and sorry for what happened with you.
Thank you, Shubham.
It’s a fascinating piece. I couldn’t stop reading right till the end. Gripping…leave you waiting more.
I love how you write?✨
I absolutely love this piece. Beautifully written.
Thank you so much. This was a tough one for me.
This is a beautiful piece!
Such an incredible and heartbreaking story. It is fantastically written, powerful and emotive.
Thank you for taking the time to read and respond, Sarah.
Kindly,
Nicole
Wow. I’m so sorry about your dad, and I wish you could have had answers to all those questions you couldn’t quite ask. I hope writing this brings some sort of peace. I live in Michigan, and when I was a kid I lived 3 blocks from Adrian College. Coincidence I know, but it made me feel this piece was personal, to me, for some reason. Regardless, hugs. I know you’ll get (have gotten already) a ton of comments. Know that I won’t forget your story.
Thanks, Dawn, for your personal response. I have such great memories of my four years in Adrian. It was the best college experience I could have asked for.
Take Care,
Nicole
WordPress suggested this reading to me – and I loved it.
Not only is this a difficult personal story, it is an incredible illustration of the way complex experiences affect us. For years, for lifetimes, sometimes we need to turn the themes over and over and over again before we can process and understand what happened, or to discover whether there was something valuable locked inside the difficulty.
Thank you or sharing. Just beautiful writing.
Thanks, Andrea.
Nature does healing. Very beautiful written.
Brilliant. Simply brilliant, and brave. My favorite part may be the end, where the narrative stops before I expect it to, before I am ready. I’m hanging there going….”Whaaaat?” And then I get it. So incredibly well done. Thank you.
Thanks so much, Elizabeth. Means the world.
Very eloquent writing Nikki
Thanks for reading, Linda. It means a lot. I know you have your own stories to tell about this day.
Oh Nikki, I am still crying about that day. I was your Mom’s roommate at CMU and your Dad was at our duplex many hours. He was such a good man, and I have never forgotten his sense of humor, sly smile when he knew he had fooled us with his latest story, and the love he felt for his family. I was sitting in our family room that day and opening up our mail. The TV was on and I was reading the Christmas card from your family when it came on about the shooting at Chelsea High School. I had never felt such shock and sorrow then or since when I saw Joe’s picture on the TV screen. My heart aches so much for you, your Mom, and Brian. You are a wonderful writer and a wonderful daughter. No one at any age should have to go through what you and your family endured. Sending my love to you.
Thank you for reading and responding to my essay and sharing these memories, RuthAnn. It means a lot to me.
Masterfully written, Callie. You brought your mother’s love to life with details of butterflies.
Your story had me completely captivated and touched my heart.
Thank you for this lovely weave of rich imagery, science and poignant memories.
Taut and riveting piece with a strong, resonant ending. Great essay!
When I read this piece during the copy-edit process I GASPED out loud. I read so many works each month, and still this one stopped me cold. I still can’t find the words to adequately express how moved I was by your work. This is the kind of story that has created something seminal at such an agonizing price. Congratulations on your work, Nicole, and I’m so happy that it is in HM.
Pamela,
I really appreciate your comments here. Thanks for your encouragement and kindness. I love HM and am honored to be published here. It’s a relief to have this story out in the world after many years of writing and revising.
-N
From the moment I read this in Submittable, this became a seminal essay that I will remember … always. Absolutely beautiful work, Mary. What a fine example of subtle weaving, imagery and language.
Thank you so much for your kind words, Pamela. I’m so pleased that this piece found a home at HM!
I shared this on my FB page today, and it has already had an “I loved this” comment. It’s an extraordinary piece.
Kaylie, thank you so much for sharing this story with us. There are so many moving and powerful things to love about this piece, but what I love most is the tenderness between you and your daughter. I also love that you call her “my girl” instead of her name, or “my daughter” – I wish I had that closeness with my mother. One of the best things about this piece is how you never stop being her champion, just as you’ve never stopped being mine. Your daughter is a lucky girl and you are anything but a bad mother.
Lauren, thank you so very much. Your kindness is amazing, and your work ethic impeccable. Thank you for reading!
How poignantly Gretchen Henkel captures the inner torment of child “internees” – held prisoner by their parents’ abusive behavior. Excellent piece.
Brenna Womer, You nailed it. A succinct assessment where every sentence paints a paragraph. Thanks!
Nicole, this is beautifully written and takes me back to that terrible December day. I taught first grade with your mom after this horrible event and watched her put her life back together. I never had the privilege of meeting your dad but heard wonderful stories about him and your family. He would be so proud of all of you!
Thank you, Dianne!
Nikki,
So powerful, I hope that finally writing this letter will bring you a bit more peace. What you and your family experienced was and is beyond our understanding. I often think of all of you. It is nice to hear you are teaching. I wish you well.
Hi Cathy,
Thanks for reading and responding! It’s nice to hear from you.
-N
Excellent job, Nikki. I loved working for your dad. He loved his family, his Polish Heritage, and the Chelsea community. He talked about how he had to “discipline” Madonna while both were at Rochester Adams. He drove to Hamtramck for every Fat Tuesday to buy Packzkis for the faculty. He is the only superintendent who would stop by the faculty dining room to eat with the teachers once in a while. We loved shooting the bull with him. A day doesn’t go by when I don’t think of that terrible afternoon.
Thanks for sharing these memories and taking the time to read and respond to my story, Lonnie. It means a lot to me.
-N
Hi Nikki. been a long time. Good to see you are teaching and doing something you love. Very powerful piece of work. Let me into some things I didn’t know about that day. I hope you are doing well
Thanks, Mike!
You are so welcome. You look about the same. I hope your mom and brother are doing well. I’ve only been back to Chelsea 2 or 3 times since Charlie passed.
What an amazing piece of writing from Gretchen Henkel. So vivid. I loved reading this. The speaker is as trapped as that fly while only the breasts of the “stepmother” fly free.
This is an impressive piece of writing under any circumstance. Knowing that you truly lived it makes it immeasurably more touching and worthy of praise. I know your parents deserve the highest regard for the way they raised you. I hope to read you in the future.
Thank you, Rebecca.
All I can say is thank you for sharing and letting us see from your eyes i could never imagine what you went thru you are a strong and remarkable woman that your dad is truly proud of
Thanks, Rachel.
Nikki,
Truly amazing that you would write this letter now. Carey and you were awesome patients at MedSport. I remember your dad providing the support only a dad can provide after your surgery and during your rehabilitation. Thank you for sharing. I admire your strength.
Hi Shane-
Thanks so much for reading and responding. Your message was a very nice surprise. I would love to connect with you on social media.
-N
Nikki,
I am truly at a loss for words. Matt & I were both in tears tonight in memory of this horrific tragedy and your personal journey. Thank you for sharing, we are greatful. These memories take on a new meaning for us today as Matt is now a superintendent in a small town & our children walk in those shoes.
Hi Laura,
Thank you for taking the time to read and comment. I smiled when I read that Matt is a superintendent in a small district. I know how difficult that job must be, but also how rewarding. Best wishes to all of you!
-N
Nikki,
Thank you for sharing this intimate part of yourself as you help us all remember the personal tragedy of this awful day. My heart still aches for your family’s loss. Your dad was a kind, honest, and excellent leader, and I have always appreciated his support and care as my boss. His impact on all of us is still felt in the Chelsea School District!
Thanks for sharing this, Steve. It means a lot to me to hear from people who knew my dad in professional contexts and admired his leadership.
Thank you for having the courage to share this, Nicole. I walk the old CHS campus often, and I always say a prayer for your dad. There’s a reason this letter was so many years in the making.
Thanks, Stacey.
Thank you for sharing this piece of yourself, Nikki. I still think about the time that we crossed paths at the Auraria Campus and the pain that was still in your eyes.
Thanks for reading and responding, Scott.
Nikki,
I think we have all been waiting to hear this from you. In some ways, you’re asking & answering some of our questions as well. You’re an inspiration to be able to get this out so beautifully & strong. Thank you.
Hi Leslie–
Thank you for this comment. It helps me remember that this story belongs to all of us. I am glad to know that this telling of my experience has helped others. I needed to tell it, but I didn’t know how many people would read it. Thank you.
-N
Nikki,
I think we have all been waiting to hear this from you. In some ways, you’re asking & answering some of our questions as well. You’re an inspiration to be able to get this out so strong & beautifully. Thank you.
Powerful. I just can’t imagine the heart ache. Very well done, Nicole.
Thanks, Joe!
Wow. This is an amazing and heartbreakingly poetic piece of writing. I didn’t know you well, Nikki, I was a year behind you and we had mutual friends. But Alice was my favorite high school teacher too, and I was not doing well in Mr Leith’s chemistry class that year either. I had heard she called someone that day but I had no idea. I don’t know what to say.
Thank you for reaching out, Angela.
Beautifully written Nikki. It was such a horrific tragedy for you, your family and our community. My heart was so sad for you and Brian and your family. Thank you for sharing.
Thanks for reading and responding, Nona. It’s nice to hear from you.
Beautifully written. Thank you for sharing.
Thanks, Amy.
All I can say is WOW!!! This is so beautifully written and took me right back to the day it happened! I had just graduated 6 months before this. Your dad was an amazing man & I still think of him often. You are an inspiration to all of us Nikki and I know your dad is smiling down on you!!!! ❤️
Thank you, Kelly.
It is a day that none of us will ever forget. My heart still aches for you.
Thanks for reading and commenting, Don.
I remember that day, I was in middle school. I had Mr. Jones in high school who spoke about this to our class, he spoke very highly of your dad and had only kind things to say about him.
Thank for reading, Colette.
Nikki,
I, too, tracked this down after hearing it read on TAL. Thirty years later, and your story is still moving to read about, and beautifully written.
Oh my God. My heart is in my throat.
Thanks for reading, Sandy! Can’t wait to read more of your work this year!
That hit close to home, just not as you might imagine. I inhaled your story like a tightly rolled joint.
Hahah! Thank you. This one was like walking a tightrope.
What a beautiful story, Callie! I grew up in Bartlesville and went to Ranch Heights as well. My best friend and I spearheaded the initial landscape design of the atrium when we were in 6th grade, the year it was built (1980). I am so pleased to hear that your mother took the time and interest to make it even more beautiful for the students after it had been neglected. She left this world a better place, but most importantly through you and your brothers. Thank you for sharing this special story.
A Hippocampus author & supporter says BRAVA, you fine writer, you! Looking forward to seeing (and feeling) more of your evocative prose.
Jeanine, I am SO happy you found this story. I had thought of you after it went live; happy to see another nature essay in our pages.
Yes! Hoping for more ?
Ditto!
Thank you! I’m scouring your website right now. So looking forward to reading about your “roadkill habit!”
Joanna – the piece published in Hippocampus was “Until We Have Loved” (although “My Roadkill Habit” was a finalist for the 2016 Hunger Mountain CNF contest, they never made it accessible to readers.)
Yes, I read your wonderful bat piece right away. Then, I clicked on a link in your blog to read the roadkill essay (and thank you for leading me to Hunger Mountain, which looks great), and was taken to a ResearchGate page asking for my name, etc. in order to send a request to the author.
Absolutely lovely.
Thank you!
One of your greatest gifts is your ability to turn your knowledge and love of nature into gorgeous prose. From one naturalist to another, you shine… like sun through a cicada skin.
Oh, Kim, thank you! Just the “from one naturalist to another” would have thrilled me to hear. Thanks for reading it!
This is a beautiful comment, Kim. Thank you.
I completely agree with Fernando Aquino. Melissa Coss eloquently brings a loving voice and tribute to multiple generations in this all too short piece. Vivid and visceral, she gives a testament to the ability to both persevere and soar under obstacles only hinted at. I would happily read more!
I am very moved by this. Interestingly, I am from an entirely different country, but my name means ‘apricot’ as well (and also ‘whip’). Anyway, although I chuckled a couple of times, I was mostly upset reading this piece. I can imagine how hard it was to write this piece for you. I find it odd that you never learned Japanese. Could it be something unconscious? That you somehow perceived the unfairness, and resided with the more ‘powerful’ parent, or rejected the ‘weak’ one. I hate putting it this way, but this is the only way I can think of it right now. Anyway, maybe you didn’t see your mother much when you were acquiring the language (she was working, you were in daycare, or something like that). Or, she didn’t speak her own native language much around you? Anyway, anyway, the way you treated your mother is so common amongst kids who grew up with parents in inequal relationships.
Melissa is a powerful story teller. In this piece she beautifully captures a cross generational stamp of Puerto Ricans in New York during the early 70’s and on
I laughed out loud at the most inappropriate place possible. Writing that brings surprise. Brava!
So glad I stopped to read this! Love the way it turns when you least expect it. (And I’m a Rosenblatt fan too.) Really well done.
Exquisite, extrordinary, powerful, moving, funny, poignant — even brilliant falls short. Bravo, Leslie.
Feels good to see your story in print, doesn’t it? Especially when your story is so engaging; I agree with Autumn’s assessment.Congrats!
Great imagery and I love the voice. I really feel the narrator’s desperation and frustration and that icky feeling in the pit of the stomach.
Just beautiful. Exquisite. Heartbreaking. Profound. And moving, Leslie. Thank you for sharing your gift with words and your incredible perspective and story. <3 What a gorgeous read.
brilliant- gourmet reading
Wow. This is absolutely exquisite. Truly takes my breath away. Congratulations. Fine, fine work.
Thanks you so much!
What a wonderful story, beautifully told.
I love the voice in this piece. It’s very “Dustin Hoffman.” The story unfolds beautifully and so visually. I could see the entire scene in my head. Wonderful!
Thanks, Nicole, for an inspirational craft article that shows how much you can stretch and grow as a CNF writer by experimenting with new forms.
Thanks so much for your comment, Karen!
You stalking son of a bitch lol
Listen carefully: do you hear it? That is the sound of my heart shattering, reliving some of the awful times at the end of my mother’s life, too. You took a difficult subject and imbued it with the respect that our elders should be given always. Thank you.
I’m so glad you feel that way. I’ve written much about my mother, who haunts me. I decided that trying to honor her once lively wit might keep a bit of her alive forever. I am so sorry for your suffering.
I felt right there with you. loved it
This essay breaks my heart. You have so much love in you.
Thank you for reading, Autumn!
Fascinating, beautiful and meaningful.
I really enjoyed this. There are beautiful images here.
Really great. Thought-provoking and tender.
Jayne-I’m speechless but not dry-eyed.
Wonderful writing! The first sentence drew me, knowing eventually the story will turn dark (as the title suggest “we killed a nun”) but I was surprised and didn’t expect everything that was happening, gives it such an place (The social aspect) where you can see, hear, and feel how you felt as a child. Keep up the great work!
Tears…thank you for sharing bravely a very touching slice of your life…
This was a beautiful blessing. LOVED your story. Very well written. Keep writing!!
This is what mothers do. Bravo!
This is such a wonderful story – one I will think about over and over.
That is gorgeous.
How delightful to see this piece of yours in Hippocampus!
I’ve been there,so much truth in this story.
This is a knock-out story, with genuine drama, great action details, dialogue, eloquence and heart.
BRAVO~ such a motivational piece especially for procrastinator as myself! I will deff be looking for more by Terri
Wonderful work, Michele. I have enjoyed learning about your journey and connecting to your willingness to expose your humanity.
Thank you so much, Pamela!
Fly away to safety, Baby Sparrow!
… a very satisfying ending 🙂
—-Dear, Jayne,
What words do I have to tell you how much you moved me, caused my bones to ache, my pulse quicken, my soul to cry out?
Your writing makes me want to be better.
Oh, Jayne, you have taken my breath away.
——Love and Appreciation from Duluth. xxx
I was directed to this today and I’m so glad to have found it. It is a gift for all of us, so deeply personal, so personally universal. I will remember this one, in total, and so many specific lines and phrases, too. And this, simply this: ” … but the sun has already begun its journey to the west.”
Heartbreaking.
Is the “Air” submission deadline still extended to April 15th? Because the link to submit is saying the category has expired.
Hi there! We also responded to your email a few weeks ago, but just replying here just to tie up the loose end. 🙂
In the 1970s I hosted feminist programs at the local radio (the first) in my hometown in Sicily. It was scandalous for my town and life-changing for me. I have written about it in a personal essay that has a different focus but I am thinking of writing a piece just on that.
This sounds fascinating! We’d love an international perspective in our collection, so we hope you submit for consideration.
Outstanding.
So so beautiful and healing to read! I wrote down several quotes <3 Thank you for sharing this.
This is beautiful on so many levels. A fully realized work of art. Ultimately the sophisticated tools—including 2nd person POV, borrowed syllabus structure, future tense—serve and express the content in such a rewarding way. Our pasts are mysteries, and how the writer situates herself in relation to it here shows that as well as reflects on it. Best essay I have read in a while!
https://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2015/10/why-writers-are-paying-to-get-published/411274/
“Fees ensure that people who have disposable income will submit the most. So it’s fine to charge fees if you’re targeting mostly white, male writers who went to elite schools and who have a financial safety net.”
“Instead of slowing things down, fees increased submissions 20 to 35 percent.”
“So the slush pile is getting bigger, but is it getting better? It’s unlikely, since professional writers with skill and experience are trying to get paid for their writing, not the other way around. Even if they make time to publish for free as a labor of love or because they want to build a literary reputation, they aren’t going to pay to submit. The people who do are likely novice writers who might think their submission will be taken more seriously because they paid for the privilege.”
https://medium.com/@mikemeginnis/this-is-a-common-argument-but-i-m-not-sure-it-really-holds-up-to-experience-with-slush-a282946812b3#.momed9xya
“There is a negative correlation between willingness to pay to submit and quality/appropriateness of submission. Think about your favorite writers. The ones you really love to read. Now try to imagine them paying a submission fee.”
Lastly:
“The $3 fee to submit to Hippocampus is not much different from submitting by postal mail with a SASE”
https://www.google.ca/search?q=what+year+is+it&oq=what+year+is+it
Thank you. So well written. So heart-wrenching. So nicely crafted.
Thank you for reading, Jennifer, and for the kind words.
Alexis, I loved this essay in “Not a Place on Any Map” and I loved reading it again today. Beautiful, as always. xo
Faith & Trust… but also Love & Truth. Beautifully written piece.
Good point. Thanks, Elaine.
I always knew you’d be a major success story Sheila. Loved reading your story!!
Allana (Faszholz) Rudd
A most amazing story, chock full of chilling details. I was cheering when you found Ben at his “post” after years of your absence. We need folks like Ben to remind us of true courage and strength – but also a writer like yourself to capture such a life. Thanks, Barth.
Hello there – I just saw your very friendly message, and thank you for that kind response.
Best wishes,
Barth Landor
That’s a story that will haunt me for a while – and I thank you for that. Such authentic delivery. I even smelled the pancakes. Thank you, Emily.
am much enjoying!
Great essay. I love your work.
I’m hooked!
You brought your mother to life again with your writing. You exposed yourself with the depth of your heartache. It’s beautiful and sad. I lost my dad to suicide over 30 years ago. He’s with me every day, not matter where I go. Thank you.
Beautiful writing, well done, thank you for sharing
Oh the ache..
Beautifully written. Thank you
I have lived long enough to have lost quite a few important people so I well know at least something of what you write so well. It’s much appreciated.
grabbed my attention and would not let go- just EXCELLENT thank you!
This is so beautiful. Thank you for sharing it.
I really liked this!
Beautiful flow to this piece. A lovely ache to it….
Wow, very powerful and moving piece, Eileen. It will stay with me. Thank you!
Thank you so much, Sue, for reading and sharing your thoughts.
How lovely to capture those elusive moments of perfect rhythm, fleeting and delicate like a question.
Oh Isaac! What a pleasure this was to read. I am inspired. Thank you.
This is gorgeous.
Fantastic imagery. Really well done.
gosh, you are so cold towards that child. sounds like a grand fuck-up i’m afraid. loveless child…
yo, what’s the matter with you?
stop going to hair dressers, start doing intermitten fasting. maybe you’ll understand whitman then. and, love yourself unconditionally, sis. you surely worth it.
Wow. What a gorgeous, well-written and heartbreaking essay. Elizabeth, you’ve managed to write what I never could. We are a decade apart (I was born in 1972), but our stories are almost identical, down to the dyed blonde hair and MTV jeans. My mother was born in Okinawa in 1942 to a family with seven children and they lived in a hut in a village in Kunigami-son, met my father while she was working as a waitress–he was in the army stationed there–they married in Okinawa (I have a photo that is almost identical to your parent’s but mine is in black and white), and she moved to California with my father and they had one child, a daughter like she always wanted. I, too, have the eyebrows of an Okinawan, was embarrassed of my mother, was never taught Japanese, and my middle name is Miyuki. My father was an engineer, and “let” my mother take cooking classes to prepare him American dishes. But instead of turning to alcohol for her home-sickness, my mother became a born again Christian. She ended up committing suicide in 1985, and I guess that’s why it’s so painful for me to write about. Your essay makes me wonder, though, if this is a shared experience with Japanese woman/American man interracial marriages. I’m so glad you and your mom reconciled and I hope you cherish every moment together. Thank you for writing this piece and I hope to read more from you.
Angela,
I read this response a few days ago and I have been thinking about it ever since. First of all, thank you for responding and for sharing your experience. I’m so sorry for your loss. I cannot even comprehend the pain you and your mother must have felt, and what you must still feel. This essay is part of a larger project I am working on, a memoir about my mother, but I also want it to be about the larger social phenomenon – Japanese women marrying military servicemen, and their children – of which you are very much a part. If you feel comfortable sharing more with me, please, please, contact me. I would love to hear from you. I don’t know if this is allowed but my email address is ebrina@uno.edu. I hope to hear from you.
Best,
Liz
Terrific writing. Powerful piece. Thank you for sharing.
so moving. Thank you
I agree – loved your story.
Thank you.
Beautiful. The way the story lopped along reminded me of many dogs I’ve known and loved over the years. Great writing.
Loved the writing style, its vividness and humour. As Georgian, who live through this time, I can say that the writing is superbly conveying the atmosphere of the time! Thank you!
I love this piece! Brings back memories of my own brief hospitalization and all of the indignities that came along with it – from being cared for during the day by the hospital’s “Nurse of the Year” to falling prey to Nurse Ratched who took over the evening shift.
Sarah, I loved this. Your grandmother was borne of hardy stock and you have captured her essence. Thanks for sharing.
So well written. I’m thinking about you –
I will put together an article for you. My first job as a teenager in 1962 was as an FCC licensed First Class broadcast engineer at the age of 16 at WFBL AM 1390 in Syracuse NY. It lead to a wonderful set of technical careers over the years and now, at age 71, I have come full circle and have been the unpaid GM and Chief Engineer at WMJS-LP since 2004.
We air live on 102.1 in Prince Frederick MD and stream live at wmjs.org and on various shoutcast providers including TuneIn Radio.
Bill, we look forward to hearing your story! You’ve been in radio for a lifetime, and you’ve must have experience so much change, especially in recent years. Thank you for your willingness to share a.
Hi Donna. I have my essay ready to send to you. Please send me an email with directions for emailing the MSword file to you. You can send the info to santiff@comcast.net. Thanks, Bill
Bill, we sent you an email just now, but to cover all of the bases, here is a link to the submissions page: https://hippocampusmagazine.submittable.com/submit/64772/air-a-collection-of-radio-inspired-stories-small-press-division-anthology
Thanks Donna. I am doing one more read-through this noontime and then will submit it mid-afternoon. Bill
OK, I sent it right about 4pm est. I hope it came through OK, it appeared to.
Bill
Hi Donna. I uploaded my submission draft yesterday afternoon. Please confirm you received it ok when it’s convenient. Thanks!
Hey Bill, I am writing a piece for this as well about my parents who were both in radio and met at the radio station at Syracuse in the 1960’s! Small world.
Hi Rachel, it certainly is! I worked one summer at WFBL for 8 weeks. They would not need me until the following summer so I scored a job at WSYR that September taking the place of the engineer who did the “Church Remotes” on Sunday mornings. As I became proficient at those I gained additional hours as a summer relief engineer working in Radio Control, TV Audio, and TV Projectionist as needed. When I quit WSYR after three years to focus on my EE degree at SU I took a part time engineering job at WOLF where my only duties were to let them post my FCC 1st Class Radiotelephone Operator Certificate (the “blue meal ticket”) on their wall and work when I was available and needed to log the transmitter meter readings every half hour. In between those log entries I could sit at a desk and study / do homework – with the Trogs’ “Wild Thing” booming through the monitor speakers! I graduated in 1968 and went on Air Force active duty…
A beautiful piece, Sarah, one that feels both original and completely universal. And now, of course, I want to bake cookies, pull out those recipes from my grandmothers.
I love this essay—obviously your writer’s block isn’t blocking you anymore. In an essay I wrote for The Magic of Memoir about writing my (upsetting) memoir, I confessed that my husband used to urge me to write for just 5 minutes. It worked. I got the manuscript done—sometimes only a little at a time. Your essay above will encourage others! P.S. I’m now eager to get a copy of “Spent” and Nestor’s books. Glad I met you on Twitter.
loved it! a great read, thanks for sharing your story
Great story with an awesome ending! Ready to read more.
Thank you for reading this piece and for your comment. The “more” is currently in revision. *smile*
A good read. Puts the reader there and then.
I am so glad that rereading the year’s worth of Hippocampus brought me back to this story. So many moments in life depend upon perspective of the moment.
Robert, your story really connected with me, having just lost my own Mother a few months ago. But rather than focus on personal aspects and experiences, I’d rather focus on your writing, and a beautiful and touching piece of writing at that. You write in very a simple and sparse way, you don’t really say “much”, but what you do say and how you say it touches me to the core. It’s really not what you read, but what sticks with you when you’re done reading that, in my opinion, is the true measure of the writer’s substance. You have a real gift of story-telling and touching people’s hearts and minds, and here you did it again.
Arthur, first let me offer my sincerest condolences on the loss of your mother. As someone who recently lost a parent, I fully empathize with the emotional roller coaster than accompanies such a life altering event – now, six months from now, and beyond. The initial shock wears off gradually, but not the emptiness. Thank you for reading this memoir and for taking the time to post a comment. I am humbled by your praise and your revelation that these words touched you “to the core.”
This is a tense, beautifully-explored essay of the inherent terror of a child going through life-threatening surgery. Thank you for this essay, Kim.
I remember this story so well, I felt it read like something from a Best of anthology. Thank you for the work you do, Morgan, and for sharing such a raw, unusual, humane perspective of such a brutal yet tender society.
I remember reading this one the first time. What a jarring, tragic and illuminating story.
I have such admiration for the way you have written this piece, the voice, the choices. This is how to write memoir!
Wow! Pamela, thanks so much for your kind words.
Marcia
This is a beautiful, contemplative piece of writing. It is a skill to craft a snippet that is so personal yet still invites musing by your reader.
Beautiful!
By 1996, I had divorced the abuser whom I’d married. Abused first occurred 3 years into the marriage, beginning with a slap that wasn’t hard enough to knock me down. The slap, however, was so unexpected that it knocked me further into unreality. Thank you for writing about this; it is a necessary conversation.
Your article moved me almost to tears. The subject matter is too too real for someone, who has been abused, to want to face yet your words were compelling and I could not leave the page. My writing is not writing at all but I do it for myself and do not care if no one else reads it or not. This is an important subject for women today that needs to be brought out into the open more often so that violence against women can be eliminated.
I could feel, smell and taste some of these images. Impressive.
Thank you Stewart, I’m grateful the images came through in such a sensory manner, there’s always a breath of relief when something works!
This really hit home for me! Such a great story Robert! I lost my mother to a terrible disease called CJD when she was only 63. I was there for her last days and breath. She was always there for me growing up, and I was there for her when she passed on. Like she used to tell me “Look after your health and your family. Once either is gone you can’t get them back.” Thanks for sharing your touching story Robert…it brought back MANY great memories for me!
“Look after your health and your family. Once either is gone you can’t get them back.” What a wonderful and comforting legacy your mom left for you, John – wisdom that comes from years of experience. So sorry you lost her at such a young age, but take solace in the memories she left behind. Thank you for sharing your experience.
Beautiful prose! Thank you for sharing. I thought you might have mentioned Malala as one of the first names! But it is still inspiring! I’m curious – the author bio says you write for expat media sites. I’ve just finished a memoir about my five years as an expat, but I do not know these websites. I’m wondering if you’d be willing to share them with me, either here or at my email below? ergosullivan@gmail.com
Eva, thank you. Isn’t it nice to think there were so many names to chose from? I’ve had a lot of articles appear on ExpatChild.com and one one the WSJ’s expat page. I know that HuffPost has an expat site as well, though I have not contributed there. Best of luck with your memoir–I would love to know when it’s available or if it is, where. It’s a wonderful experience I wouldn’t trade for the world, though I’m aware not everyone feels that way!
Riveting. Such a magnetic voice. It really pulled me in. Congratulations.
As the daughter of a 93 year old mom currently in the hospital, boy can I relate! Sleepless nights, endless tests and what a spirit your father showed through every step. The rock solid support of this paternal love for his child is palpable. It shows itself at every corner, in childhood, adulthood and in the last days of life. What a beautiful story. What a great way to grow up! Thank you for sharing such a personal story so beautifully.
Hi Mary Lou – I’m touched that you can relate to this memoir, and I wish you and your mom well. Having you there as an advocate for her is a great comfort. Hospital stays often take a toll, physically and emotionally, on family members so please take care of yourself. Thank you for joining the discussion.
What a warm and loving portrait of your dad! How lucky you were to have such a wise and pragmatic man cheering you on throughout your life. I appreciate your vivid and accurate descriptions of the frustrations of hospitalization of a loved one and the juxtaposition to the amazing warmth and respect of hospice workers. It struck a chord with me and transported me back to my similar experience with my grandma a few years ago. Well done!
Thank you for writing, Nadine, and yes, my dad cheered me on throughout my life. I appreciate you sharing your experience with your grandmother and for recognizing the wonderful work of hospice. These angels came into our lives with compassion and understanding and maintained my dad’s dignity until the end. Can you ever imagine a healthcare worker offering up a hug and thanking you for the PRIVILEGE of taking care of your loved one?
Beautiful, Liz. I love how this turned out.
Thank you, Glennis!
I am the brother of the author of this memoir and wow! I felt like I was right there with my dad going through that period of time again. I’m blown away by the responses I’m reading from people who were moved by what my brother wrote and who shared their own stories. My dad was a modest guy who would probably shrug and say “its no big deal” but I know he’d be proud of this story as we were of him.
It’s almost one year, Mike. And you were there through it all. Thank you for writing in. I am proud to tell our story.
Thank you, Barth, for a beautiful story of reslience spanning decades. Thanks, too for going back to see Ben the Barber, for taking the chance, riding back on your bike. So great for you to find a warm welcome under the expert hands of an old blessed soul. Sacred ground, indeed.
You have seamlessly blended maturity, psychological insights and deep compassion — not only for your mother but, just as importantly, for yourself — and created a bright literary gem.
Thank you for these kind words, Robert.
Came across this link. Wow. Very moving. I’ve had to go through very similar situation myself. Must say, I know how it feels, the frustration and sadness all mixed up together. But Rob’s story ends on such a real and life-affirming note. Thanks for putting into words what so many people have felt and experienced.
Ron-I wish you could hear from the readers who haven’t posted, yet shared their stories with me personally. The emotions are similar – frustration, anger, helplessness – it’s a universal situation. Thank you for taking the time to share your experience.
Such a loving, soulful tribute. Your father’s support of your grade-school writing ambitions was expressed with just the right touches of delicacy and unadorned pride. Your translation of his hand moving “like a windshield wiper against glass” to mean “Enough! Enough!” is about as powerfully concise as a writer can get. Bravo.
Coming from the author of “Spinning Shame Into Nostalgia,” this is high praise, indeed. Thank you ,Robert, for taking the time to read a fellow Hippo writer’s work. And congratulations on your masterful story and runner-up placement!
The ingenious approach to personal narrative is irresistibly inviting; a softly sardonic voice holds sway. The writing is somehow simultaneously gentle and gut-wrenching. Flawlessly crafted work of art.
Although my own story is different in the details, I can so relate to the teenage girl who treated her mother with such disrespect and disregard. You are so fortunate to still have your mother and the opportunity to change the ending of your story. If you look in February of 2015 here at Hippocampus you will see how my relationship with my mother ended. This is a beautifully written piece. Congratulations.
Thank you, Jayne. Very kind of you to appreciate. I look forward to reading your piece.
Wow, a beautiful portrait from a loving son. Totally engrossed in the story telling. I loved the book report section and how your father dealt so well with such an injustice that can mark a twelve year old. And you clearly are a writer yes a gifted writer. And his last days in our medical system where we saw the indifferent and the compassionate. So glad I happened to come across this. So fortunate you were able to be there with family and at the precise moment. A rich full life,
You’re absolutely right, Jim. My father came to my defense when I needed it most. I didn’t realize it at the time, but his confidence in my writing ability would have a profound effect on my shaky self-confidence. In his own way he turned a teacher’s thoughtless remark into a cause for celebration. Glad you found this link! Thank you for writing.
What a courageous piece of writing. Beautiful and brilliant. I can barely breathe.
It’s an unexpected pleasure, and quite humbling, to receive such a reaction for such a personal piece. Thank you.
So, so touching. The complexities of navigating the healthcare maze, finding caring advocates, and trusting what you know is in the heart of your dad — all so beautifully illustrated. What an honor you gave him! A last final gift.
Thank you for writing, Karen, and for bringing to the forefront the perils that await elderly patients in the healthcare system. That is why we MUST be there for them to help navigate the administrative nightmare; to communicate with doctors and nurses; to ask questions and then ask them again and again if the answer is unsatisfactory, even at the risk of being labeled a nuisance. Be their advocate, their voice. And, as you so eloquently phrased, “trust what you know is in their heart.”
Rob, Pieces like yours affords us all the comfort of knowing we are not alone in these situations. Thanks for the time you took to write and publish it. As a writer, I mentor veterans who have profound experiences and points of view to share. I provided them with the link to your story so they’d know there are venues for publishing personal narratives. https://www.wgfoundation.org/programs/military-veterans-writing-workshop/
Karen-I applaud the work you’re doing with veterans in pursuit of a literary career and am honored that you have chosen to share my work and introduce them to Hippocampus.
One of the most emotional stories
I have ever had the pleasure of reading. It makes me want to cherish all the memories I have of my father even more.
Savor the moments you have with your father, Logan, and continue to create memories that will last a lifetime. Thank you for taking the time to share.
Thank you Luisa for your kind words and encouragement. I consider myself the lucky one in our relationship. My father lived his life with dignity right up until the very end.
So moving and beautifully written! You and your dad were lucky to have each other… What a beautiful story of a wonderful relationship! A big CONGRATULATIONS to you! I am rooting for you for that Reader’s Choice Award!
Powerful, passionate and important writing, Dina. Congratulations.
Your essay should be required reading for all males over the age of 13.
High praise, indeed Robert! I do think my 2 small males (and one large one) get tired from time to time hearing me make sure to slip in a story of Anne Bonney the pirate or Mia Hamm or Elizabeth Cady Stanton or a thousand and one other ways I manage to filter the conversation through a lens of gender. But, as you rightly intuited, it’s important. It’s where my passion and my life intersect. Thank you again.
Loved how you married form and content in this piece, and then created that beautiful arc of not just self-forgiveness but transcendence.
Awestruck by the images, the poetry in how you pulled your themes together. Congratulations!
Thank you very much! There’s a lot of personal passion in there in terms of theme, which helps a lot when you are telling a story, I think–in a greasing the wheel kind of way. But like anyone, there are times you doubt what you see in your head, so it is always thrilling when someone lets you know it works or that they’ve been affected. Writing, right? It’s a lonely game. So when anyone takes the time to let you know how it’s working, it’s usually enough to make your day. So thank you again.
It is a very moving story of your relationship with your father. When my father unexpectedly fell ill, I scheduled a flight to visit him. Unfortunately, he passed away before I could reach him. I have wondered how I would have said good-bye and any final words my father would have passed along to me. I hope my children will have great memories of me just like you have of your father. Thank you for expressing your love for your father for readers like me.
Hi, Clark. I’m grateful that I was given those last two weeks with my dad. Thank you for sharing your experience. I’m glad that his story touched you.
Congratulations on your win, Dina. It’s a beautiful piece. Well-crafted, vivid imagery. I’m almost embarrassed of the piece I submitted! ;o) I sat in bed and read your essay and I kept saying, “Wow…wow” and my husband had to ask what I was reading! Can I ask…did this come to you quickly, or is this something you tinkered with for a long time?
Amy, never say that, the important part is telling the story, the rest is just icing on the cake–and can always adjust the amount of sugar in the icing when you need to ;-). Firstly, thank you (for reading and taking the time to comment!), it’s always wonderful to hear what your peers think of your work. As for your question, the impetus for the piece came quite quickly enough, but getting it all puzzle-pieced together took a lot of tinkering. There were plenty of “nights” that are sitting in a file folder on my computer which could have had a place in here, and even a few that made the final cut that I’m not 100% sure about, even at this late stage. It was definitely not a quick process from start to finish–and, I’ll confess, reading it again after a while, there are still plenty of places where I see how I could have improved it. I don’t think any of us are ever 100% satisfied with our work, but when you get up near 90%, it’s a pretty good day.
Thank you, Dina. And I totally hear you about re-reading and STILL finding spots that could be improved. I’m the same way. I could revise until the cows come home. I think I’m learning not to go back and read my stuff that’s been accepted for publication–I should just be happy it was chosen! Best of luck in your future endeavors!
Thank you, Amy. (And never go back and read your published work! It’s an exercise in frustration! You’re absolutely right, it is work that was chosen for a reason). Good luck to you as well. D
This is interesting. Many collections of this ilk never let the author comment or reflect on the piece they wrote. Might pick it up. Good review.
Pretty cool. I never thought of putting a memoir in anything aside from a book. Great review.
This is a fine encomium to two people, one of whom is alive, writing with delicacy and wisdom about inexperience — and about heartbreaking experience when it comes. Your story is haunted by the cost of naivete, the romance of the self, and the unreliable cultural edges during an era of exhilaration and free-fall. It is marvelous to write so concisely about emotion, without melodrama and without appearing remote — a tricky balance. Congratulations. I look forward to seeing more.
I appreciate the unusually thought-provoking expressiveness of your comments, particularly “… the romance of the self and the unreliable edges during an era of exhilaration and free-fall.” Thank you.
MOVING…HEARTBREAKING…but most of all, real. When memories come in conflict with the medical community and death becomes a nightmare you can’t prepare f0r. Robert Weinburger is able to keep his love and respect for his father during times it would be easy to lose it. His father’s influence on a caring son, that only wants to do the right thing when there is no right thing, shows through. I, for one was able to share his stoy w9th us.
All too often elderly patients fall through the cracks in the healthcare system, especially as hospital patients. My brothers and I served as my father’s advocate, his voice, when he needed us most. Thank you, Ronnie, for recognizing that.
This story was so poignant that I had to continually remind myself that it was true. Your essay was haunting and unforgettable, and the way you paid homage to Kate by crafting this essay with both personal complicity and utter respect gave her life again for me. Congratulations on being the runner-up!
Thank you for your thoughtful and big-hearted comments. Your observation that the essay was crafted “with both personal complicity and utter respect …” is especially meaningful to me.
Congratulations on your win, Dina, and on crafting such a singular, memorable essay. I feel it is one of the finest works I’ve read for HM. A wrenching theme beautifully wrought.
Pamela, thank you so much for those words, truly. Writing about women has always been the baseline of my work–even though it took me a few decades to realize it! I’m so pleased that it all came together in a way that could touch someone outside. Thank you.
I honestly think I gasped every time I read that first section–pure poetry of expression.
Congratulations, Dina. Exquisite doesn’t begin to describe this piece. I’m in awe of your voice, your passion and your talent.
Jayne, thank you! I feel immense fortune when I have the opportunity to write about women, and it’s gratifying to know that my passion for that comes through somehow. My voice may be getting hoarse from the shouting, but my fingers still work on the keyboard. Until they stop, I’ll keep going.
To say that I loved your essay is a vast understatement. This piece was the height of elegance and craft, Naomi. I have not stopped thinking about it, and I’m a big fan of your style! Congratulations on being a finalist and on such a fine piece of work!
Pamela, thanks! I’m thrilled to appear on Hippocampus, alongside such other amazing prose.
I loved loved loved this story and I can’t wait for memoir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thanks, hopefully that day will come.
wow. thanks for this moving essay. beautiful story
Mom laid on the counter pleading for a loan for food that’s love, wow! If people could see that you should not judge all people by one person or a few!
In the end they all disappear; God, Jesus, The Devil, Satan et al in to the abyss and beyond……..it was fascinating picking out pieces in between your lines, and still a heroic story, thanks.
It’s not a bad thing to lose faith in religion, something that is man-made, so long as it diminishes in proportion to the rise of your faith in God. The two often become confused. Religion often disappoints people, but God never does. Religion doesn’t heal, God does. If you are lucky enough to tap into God’s spirit, that’s where you will find your healing.
I enjoyed this.
Great story and helpful.
Johanna van Zanten
So much HAPPENS in this delicious piece! Very moving. Great writing!!
I wondered what “six flash essays” would be like and how they’d fit together. So glad I read them! Beautiful, evocative writing.
Great stuff!
These pieces are beautiful. Exactly the kind of writing I read and strive for as a writer. Perfect blend of prose/poetry–pieces living on that backslash I just put between prose and poetry. Thank you.
Oh Gwen, I LOVED your story. I could imagine as if I was there and FEEL so DEEPLY. It made me laugh, ..made me angry, but mostly very sad. Thank you so much for sharing with us this story full of family love.
I can’t wait to read your next one.
It’s really sad to know that even today many women are convinced with the little effort men make after messing up their whole lives . When someone abuses a person for so long ,the little amount of love showered by them seems like you have been given the world. But that’s not the world. A person -be a boy or a girl , must know their true worth and must be strong enough to protect themselves against such things and to walk away when the love is not being served .
Kudos to the writer for sharing this in such a beautiful manner.
Magin, this is just so lovely. Simultaneously poignant and strong. I love some of the turns of phrase — “I like to believe what I love can find a way back to me” — “as if this primal rhythm can carry me back to them.”
Thank you, Carol!
I don’t know if it was because I grew up in that time, that it settled so much to home, or was it because you wrote it so honestly, and matter-of-fact. Ok, I should stop. I liked it, a short story with heart and how it affects everyone involved.
Wow. I love how the images come around in circles, how the story emerges from these recursive rememberings. So glad I got to read this.
Sounds interesting. I always find myself responding to such stories by wishing I had comparable accounts from the parents. What were they thinking and struggling with? Did they understand the impact their own actions and words had on her, or at least the possibilities? Families always seem to be filled with feet of clay. …all the way down.
I like your writing style! But you have a tough job. Sure makes me never want to be a lawyer : )
Got to read something new that really fascinated me,… expecting some new stuff to read from Mr. Dan Branch….
Kill yourself, disgusting delusional pathetic fucked up fatass virgin fag.
wow!!! I LOVE YOUR STORY, it took me back to my childhood , you are so talented you have a hat for everything!!!! I can’t wait for your next story in hard back!! You are truly BLESSED & HIGHLY FAVORED !! CONGRATS!!!!! I want to be like you when I grow up !!!!
Love you much!!!!
Ingrid..
I love the merging flow, the artistic expression of details which carry the reader to participate in the story. You are a talented writer. Thank you for bringing this to us. Could be a true story? I wonder!
I strolled through all the titles wanting to read something but not everything and this was the story I chose to read first thing on a Monday morning. I’m so glad I did! I was transported to Coney Island for awhile and it was a very enjoyable trip. It was easy to step inside this writer’s life and see through her eyes and rumble around a bit in her brain. She made it easy like that. Now I know a little something more than I knew before and I’m pleased with self for ferreting out such a wonderful story.
This is beautiful, intense and frightening. Thank you so much for putting it out there.
Gwen, This story moves my heart and scratches my soul. It brings to mind days of old when times were a challenge for a mom and dad, raising us children with love, care, and sacrifice. It’s so beautifully written. It’s absolutely amazing. Sheila
Wow, Great job Gwen! I loved the way you brought the story around full circle. You’ll find a publisher!
Loved it!!! A great writer!! Keep going!!
Nancy
Dearest Gwen,
What a piece! I Loved it. It was a moving picture in my mind, which is what a good story is suppose to do. Knowing the characters gave me a special sense of excitement .
I hope others enjoyed it as much as I did. Please continue your literacy journey and share your gift.
What a beautiful essay. I love the way it combines a sense of urgency and flow. Lovely!
I love this. So powerful.
Jen, I love this story so much. Beautiful and painful and the use of the diorama as a way to tell it is so unique. So proud of you for telling your truth.
Thank you for taking the time to read it.
Extremely poignant and touching story.
I was greatly moved by this account of strength and endurance, as it reminded me of my mother and the periodic indignities that come with poverty. Even without common experiences, this telling should touch every reader’s spirit and humanity.
This is beautiful and so exactly how everyone felt those days. The children. All the frightened children. All the frightened parents. Life changed forever. Finally now, Jacob has been found. And so close to home. Still heartbroken.
I am reeling from the news. Such a mix of heartbreak and relief. Thanks for your comment, Teresa. More than anything, I am realizing how, despite the loneliness I experienced in my confusion, so many people felt the exact same way.
It’s Labor Day here and at the local state fair, there will be a hot dog eating contest. They just showed on the local news people stuffing themselves with hot dogs. They have pieces of hot dog buns and mustard on the corners of their mouths while they continue to gorge themselves. After reading this story, it is quite sickening to watch this when you know people are hungry. I turned on C-Span to find out what stories they had for Labor Day, and I hear a caller talk about “starvation is a real motivator.” From one extreme to another!
Dear Barth Landor,
Thank you for writing about Ben Scheinkopf.
Here in the UK, there are still people who “outlived every last Nazi tormentor” too.
Some of them are my friends or mentors or adopted bubbes and zaydes.
They’re exasperating or lovable or fragile or unfathomable.
All mishpocheh.
I’m glad you and Ben were reunited.
I think it was beshert.
And thank you for making me forget that I’m ill.
Every piece of wonderful writing is a painkiller.
A bit early, I know, but shana tova to you and your family.
Dear Ruth,
Thank you for your kind remarks. I send you good wishes for better health.
I look forward to going to my Aunt’s house because we always go shopping and go to the local Chinese Buffet where we turn into gluttonous monsters. You know that in America, people feel they have to get their money’s worth when they go to a buffet, so they eat and eat until they are miserable. Then you spend the next 2 hours burping because you are bloated after having to unbutton your clothes after eating so much. Nobody in this country should have to go hungry. This story is too sad to have to tell as an American citizen.
Hello Mrs Williams: We always had enough to eat when I was growing. When I read stories like yours, it makes me feel bad because I see these television commercials that show how there are children in classrooms who go hungry at night. I work in a school district where 99% of the children qualify for free breakfast and lunch. I wonder what happens to these children on the weekends and wonder if they don’t get a meal until they return to school on Mondays. What happens to them over the summer? I can remember once a child was suspended from school for fighting. The mother called the school trying to be on the school’s side and begged the Principal to let her child come to school to get lunch because they had no food at home. During summer school on Fridays, the same Principal supplied plastic bags and asked the Mothers of the children when they came to school to pick up their children to go through the lunch lines and fill their bags with milk, cereal, fruit and whatever else they saw so they would have food to eat on the weekends. One day he was laughing so hard as he told the story of the Mother who filled her purse with spaghetti. Meat sauce was dripping from the edges of her purse. Sometimes you have to laugh. It is better than crying about the situation.
Milk spoils and fruit goes bad. Why not give it to the children. It would be thrown out in the end anyway.
Poverty lurks on every corner.
Dear Mr. Barth, It is very beautiful that you understand places of great suffering to be sacred grounds. Great suffering occurs every day in Syria, Libya, Iraq and Gaza. I hope you would consider these places to be no less ‘holy in their way as the Western Wall’ or as Lourdes or as the Ganges River. And I hope also that you would consider it a “blessing” if a barber from one of these places stood over you.
Dear Michael,
I certainly agree with you that there is a kind of sacredness wherever innocent people suffer terribly – whoever those people may be. Thank you for reading my piece and responding to it.
Hello Ms. Williams: I was moved very much by your story. I grew up in this country, but my Father was from Lebanon. He told us stories about how they played outside as bombs dropped in the back yards of their neighborhoods. Everybody lived in fear they wouldn’t live through the night. They learned to eat whatever they could get their hands on, or if they got too hungry, they made themselves sleep so they did not know they were hungry again until they woke up from the forced sleep. It’s funny how the so called “land of plenty” has very little for certain groups of people and so much for others. It seems strange that restaurants have to throw food in the trash at night because it is unhealthy to serve the same food the next day. It seems almost like a sin that the US Government would dump wheat in the ocean to keep the prices high on the global markets. In the end, you reap what you sow.
coach509@att.net
Jerry Sanders
My wife shad that she never went hungry. They grew up in the country where they raised their own garden, had cows, went fishing and hunting and never missed a meal, but growing up in the city I could very well relate to what Mrs. Williams had to say. This is truly a moving story that most of the older folks can relate to because her story is our story.
Much of the story, I can identify with growing up in Detroit in the late 1950’s and 60’s. As a child, we always had to depend on other folks for our very existence. My Mother shoveled coal in an apartment house to pay for our rent. At the time, people had coal furnaces. My Mother’s job was to keep the apartment house warm. When I got old enough to realize what was going on, I helped out because when the coal got down to embers, I helped stoke the furnace. Now that I am older and retired, I can sit back and remember what happened in my past that made me who I am today. You never know what happened in a person’s past to give them survival skills or to know how to deal with the hardships in life. Can you even imagine what would happen to our grandchildren who grow up with I-Phones, television and eat at McDonald’s everyday if they were one day confronted with not having the necessities of life? They do not have the survival skills we have been equipped with to make it through the hard times. Thanks Ms. Williams for the revival of memories of my Mother and my childhood. That old saying comes back, “If we don’t know our past, then we are doomed to repeat it.”
Brought tears to my eyes.
Sent from my iPhone
Reading your story Gwen, you captured mine as well. It just dawned on me… life is not much different from people to people, the only difference most times is just location. Gwen ! the re-telling of your memories drew me back to my little village in the Caribbean.It also made me sit with my spin straight and acknowledging the strength of our ancestors who planted the “shade tree” and we now benefiting form the shade . In one word “Epic”
Wow, there’s so much here. Love this essay.
Love this. “We are all ice frozen.”
Lovely!
Barth, this is beautiful. . .the man and his story are beautiful, but your words are too. Thanks for writing this.
Hi, is that our PollyZ? Thank you, Polly – I appreciate it. Barth
Thank you for this tender portrait of a human encounter. I often feel that we are losing the ability to relate face-to-face as I watch more and more people standing right next to one another but, rather than look into the eyes of their neighbor, they focus intently on a cell phone screen. Your piece is a tribute to human communication — that which goes beyond words but, at times, may be recalled by them.
Thank you, Judy, for your kind words. I agree that we are in an epidemic of screen-fixation, and I feel very grateful to have known face to face (or face to scalp) the good man that I describe in my essay.
Is flash non-fiction acceptable as an entry?
Absolutely!
Well stated, but a question remains for me. My wife and I recently has a couples massage that we both enjoyed very much. Afterwords my wife asked me directly if I had gotten aroused during the massage. It turns out that I was briefly aroused and was honest with her. I went on to explain that being such an excellent massage that as I became more relaxed the arousal quickly went away. Further, that I linked arousal with tension (I believe this is common with male sexual responses) and that arousal was inconsistent with enjoying the relaxing aspects of the massage.
Then I returned the question. I was quite surprised at my wife’s response. She was also aroused and nearly had an orgasm. It turns out that she commonly has the imperceptible mini orgasms during a massage. That the relaxation of the massage brings on this response and that this is the reason she enjoys massages. And this is not dependent on the gender of the MT.
Having read up on the Internet on this I have found that this response is not only common, but the MT often see it as a direct result of the patient relaxing and views it as a compliment.
Wow is that different from how female MT speak of aroused (forget about climaxing) male patients.
My question is this: do you accept that a secret female arousal (even climax) is complete acceptable while the same for a male patient is completely unacceptable?
And if so how is that explainable?
I love that you address the clearly sexist divide here. Men aren’t allowed to have erections, let alone orgasms because it can be seen. Yet women can orgasm all day long during a massage because it’s not seen.
How fair is that though? Women essentially get a sensual/sexual massage and no one cares but God forbid men get the same treatment.
And what’s the reason for this holier than though attitude from the massage industry that massage and sex can’t mix? Why not? Clearly women are getting a “happy ending” already, so why not guys too if the therapist is comfortable with it?
I think a large part for this divide is widespread misandry perpetuated by the Feminism. It has taught everyone that men are all predators and women are “superior” to men. Lots of women are full on narcissists too. You see it in dating especially – see “Hypergamy”. Plenty of videos out there about how women treat men in general. It’s toxic!
I can’t edit my previous comment so please excuse the typos.
A very powerful piece, Madhushree. You handled the ‘back and forth’ between the scenes incredibly well. Unforgettable.
So much beautiful and terrifying paradox contained in this brief essay. I’m so glad I came across it.
Love this! The sex talk I tried to have with my daughter was an unmitigated disaster. As soon as she saw the book I had purchased, she snatched it from my hands and screamed, “I’ll read this by myself! I don’t want to talk about it.”
I enjoyed this story.
Your final paragraph really resonated for me. So much of how people react to anything “different” is either a result of fear of ending up different, or gladness about not being different.
This is simply stunning. Congratulations.
Thank you, Jayne!
Another shamelessly priviledged person from a shamefully poor country. It’s very easy to spot this kind of writers from the boastful vibe in their voice (even in writing). Oh, what a big house you were living in, with a very big garden, and a very strict security (God forbid, the poor might come and steal your precious stuff!). Such big hearted people are they indeed, adopted many pets, didn’t spayed the pure bred ones (because they can sell those precious little ones for MONEY), eutanized them well before their time because they are no longer healthy and good-looking. Very lovely indeed, those self-obsessed rich ones who lived like kings and queens in those huge inequality lands. Never look back, darling, never look back.
Brilliant, brilliant work, Mike. Wow. Gut punch for sure.
Loved this.
Nice story Gretchen. I remember those booklets and was alarmed at the section about how one becomes pregnant. They had an illustration of a handsome man sitting on the arm of a chair looking down at his sweet wife (dressed just like June Cleever) and the caption read: “When a man and wife love one another, and the time is right they can become pregnant”. I still avoid sitting on vintage wing-back chairs— you betcha.
Wow, Mike! I love this. So many captivating lines: “Scars ink into clean squares” and “Akimbo spastic motion is what I am.” And this one: “I will take some of what she feels, will keep it as my own.” I didn’t know you were working on a full-length memoir. Cannot wait! (especially with that title)
Excellent Barth! A fine piece of writing.
Thank you, Jean.
Wonderful character portrait.
Thank you, Brett.
I’ve said it elsewhere and I’ll repeat it here, this was a stunning, harrowing, important piece of work, Madhushree! Congratulations, I will NEVER forget this read. My psyche is forever chipped from this story.
Congratulations, Barth, on a story that I will never forget. In plain-speak, but with an eye for the crux of the matter, you honor a life made extraordinary because of survival and fortitude.
Thank you, Pamela. My barber’s life is one worth honoring, for sure.
This was the worst one among the 2015 winners, yet it won the first place. Why? I couldn’t help questioning this while reading much better essays without any monetery reimbursement whatsoever. You see, Hippocampus Magazine, this is troubling. It really takes from the credibility of the award. I hope you’ll be more mindful in the coming years. I wasn’t even going to keep on reading after this one turning out really meh; but thank god, I carried on. The others were spectacular. Too bad they didn’t get the treatment and exposure they deserved. Please be fair.
I am absolutely floored by these stories! Your self-implication is so clear. You give the reader a window into your world and explain these medical terms we are not familiar with. Well-written and totally engaging.
She probably meant learning a new language and travelling helped her expand her mind. I sure felt/feel that way learning a new language in another hard-to-live country. I see women in their 50s-60s that decided to lose their chains here as well. Liberated old women who were raised in countries with huge gender inequality. They are not that far away from Ming. I wish you two had had a coffee together so we could hear more about her! It was a lovely reading.
I noticed I love reading classroom stories.
Wow! This is just extraordinary. The way our young minds absorb and interpret what goes on around us and how we attempt to make sense of it then, and in all the years to come, along with all the pain that entails is woven beautifully here. Great work.
This is absolutely exquisite.
I love this, Lisa. I was a horsey little girl who never got to realize her dreams until the age of 38, when I finally got my first horse. Thank you for allowing me to live all that I missed through this wonderful essay.
Thank you, Jayne. I’ve seen it so many times – – at any age, when we get that first horse, or get to ride regularly for the first time, we’re all little girls inside!
This is an amazing behind-the-scenes story about the pivotal people on the front line meeting America’s immigrants. It’s a big world in that classroom and with it comes a million stories. I’m glad Debra captured it here.
my assistant was wanting DD 2962 yesterday and was informed about a document management site that has 6,000,000 forms . If others need DD 2962 as well , here’s a
http://goo.gl/xZGxWoInformative piece – Coincidentally if people are wanting a DD 2962 , my business partner edited a blank document here
http://goo.gl/aMoXXcasdasasdasdasd
What an emotional, well-written story. I wasn’t there during the war, but departed Israel on Jan 16 or 17, leaving an Israeli boyfriend behind whom I’d just fallen in love with. From the safety of my parents’ home in NY, I imagined him crouched and huddled with his family in the tiny room they had prepared for the war, just like you. So my perspective was more like that of your parents, though I can’t imagine how they felt, knowing their child was directly in harm’s way.
Great stories and great writing.
Wonderful piece and a fine tribute to Walter.
My husband has read a couple of books about what really goes on in the trenches at a hospitable. Years ago during a hospital visit. I noticed the rhythm of the hospital while recovering from my accident. By the way the stories are great…
Thanks for your kind words. The ER is a special place.
Wonderful read…
Oh, Glenys, there are so many things I still can trace back to what I learned in that little barn that year!
I never was a horsey little girl, but I read all the books about horsey little girls and that world remained in my imagination, where it still resides. This very evocative essay brought it all back to consciousness, where I could revisit it and remember a more innocent time. Lovely, Lisa.
Thanks for reading and leaving such a lovely comment!
I am honored to count Shiv as a friend and fellow physics enthusiast who I met at Ashland University when I was earning my MFA in Creative Nonfiction.
Beautifully written and gut-wrenching. To teach the children with passion and honesty is a beautiful use of your talents. I’m inspired by the courage it took for you to reflect on your responses to your student’s gun story in order to navigate your own.
Thank you so much for reading, Lisa, and for your encouragement.
Such a gripping and sad piece. I was right there with you and your sister every moment. Powerful writing.
FABULOUS interview, Donna. I’m downloading the book right now. Thanks so much!
Is this contest open to writers from other countries?
Yes, but prizes are in $USD.
Thanks!
Love it! Well done!
Interesting article . Coincidentally , if someone needs to merge two images , my assistant saw article here
http://goo.gl/vFnKkQThe last line gave me chills. The good kind. Lovely.
This really hit home. Sue, thanks for this well crafted and written story.
Thanks, Joe!
I am 74. Kenneth Anderson is still ny most honourable person and soul. My heart broke when he hqas passed away.I never knew as I was doing my PhD in IIT Chennai.Just now I came across Donald here in this site. I knew his son is Donald. Thought you are in UK. If you are in Blore I want to see you the embodiment of Kenneth the greatest adventurer ever far far and far ahead of JIm Crobet. Many a time he has presented himself as the bait but not otheres. He made maneaters com to him in the dead of nights with sure death staring. I want to meet you and hug you on behalf of My dearest Kenneth. How can I meet you in Blore. Are you staying in Kennth Andersns Red Brick house near the white victoria statue/
reverently
prof Dr lal
drlalps@gmail.com
Well written and extremely interesting article. There was a point that I believed Casey knew something about my life and was speaking directly to me.
Great piece of writing and advice to writers.
Brilliant essay, Michael! Bravo!
I will never forget the first time I read this piece. The progression of the narrative, humanity, lyricism all fleshed out a heart-breaking yet also redemptive story of the state of being mother, the things we cannot recover from time … really beautiful work, Stephanie.
Always enjoyed your writings, although from one article last year it sounded like you weren’t going to be farming for much longer. Glad you are still enjoying it.
That you can write about this horrific experience with such eloquence is startling, and truly a gift. And the ending – wow.
This piece broke my heart, and then lingered while I picked up the pieces. Such powerful writing.
This is startingly beautiful. Even more lovely and haunting on a reread.
Thank you so much. I really appreciate your taking the time to comment!
phenomenal. blew the roof off of my mind.
Robert,
I am new here and this is my first read but I have to say if this piece represents the quality I can find, I have stumbled upon something quite wonderful!
The way you meld imagination in and out of this piece is poetic and deep. It does EVERYTHING a great piece should do – made me feel, understand and question. I loved it and am now a fan!
JudeeAnn, thank you so much for stopping by and taking the time to comment. We appreciate it, and hope you’ll continue reading. – Donna, founder
Hi Donna,
I believe this is intertwined with the
conference that is up and coming in August. I am making plans to attend
and sent an email to an address I found in an effort to volunteer to
help in the conference. If you have any other way I can reach out and
offer my services, please let me know.
Judy
Dear JudeeAnn, thank you for your feedback re: Red Rabbit. I so appreciate that you not only read and enjoyed the story but also reached out, as this was a difficult piece to write, and we writers often toil at the desk without a sense of what we’re doing or how we’re doing it. Your words give me great encouragement. Best, RWF
Such a beautifully realized flash essay. Thank you for your brave and moving writing.
Why did the author put the money back?
I worked and lived with homeless women with AIDS for fourteen years. This essay feels like home to me. So beautifully written and evocative of all that such a place holds. Well done.
Beautiful and frightening.
Invaluable commentary ! With regards to witch , if anybody requires to merge PDF or PNG files , my colleagues came across article here
http://goo.gl/1eIKvBI love that you donated the tires. This whole piece is tragically beautiful and pertinent to current discussions on disability. <3
So beautiful.
Hello. Please remove my picture of the pink phone. Flickr mistakenly defaulted all of the images
to Creative Commons when they revamped the site, but these are not to be shared. Thanks.
C.G. – Thank you for letting us know. We will remove the image ASAP – just need to find a replacement. I’m sorry you had an issue with Flickr’s categorization! We do only use Creative Commons images.
A beautiful story with so many meanings. We all exist but for a moment in time. We mean the world to others, and they to us. Yet, the world does not stop for any of us. So important to take the time to enjoy that afternoon wind off the ocean, to breathe deeply, and like Ariella to enjoy the life we are given.
Carol – how poignant. Thank you for adding this comment here.
Thank you for sharing this beautiful private moment at the end of your husbands life. Your writing says it all. It touched me deeply.
Chilling images.
This is so beautiful.
Gorgeous writing. Riveting and stunning. Thank you for this story.
Days after reading it I can still feel the emotions -My inner heart has been touched –
Painful and full of love at the same time.
Great piece! I remember this one in draft form — very, very close to the final. Excellent job. Very moving.
Such a powerful, authentic voice. Bravo!
Moving piece, Christi. Well done. Congratulations.
Beautiful, delicate, heart-touching imagery…..wow
Absolutely beautiful and very touching, Deborah!
Judy (Samuelson) Brandman
Lovely, poignant, beautiful in its spareness.
The step dad is horrifying!
Wow! Such emotion on the page conveyed through Spartan language. Can’t wait to read her book. Kudos, Deborah.
As a high school teacher I was drawn to the students who were not leaving enough paper. Under the misguided philosophy that everyone gets a trophy, I worried about their sense of false security. Sadly, I have read from time to time in the local paper about some of their tragic results. In the classroom I would try to infuse a bit of realism and assure them it was okay to fail. Good lessons come from those moments I told them. But we have to learn to trust ourselves. False compliments don’t build trust. Thanks for a beautiful story.
Kim thank you for those kind words. You are right, absolutely, false compliments don’t build trust. I grew up in a time when the trophy only went to the best and brightest–while I agree with that principle more than the current one of everyone winning, I think we all need to encourage students to find the thing they enjoy, and that’s it ok to enjoy life without winning the trophy. The current notion of needing to have a passion fascinates me, and I think it is hobbling a generation. Ultimately I’m not sure that Josh’s story would have turned out any differently, but I hope there were teachers like you in that school who were drawn to him and saw in him something the rest of us didn’t. The world needs teachers like you, who see beyond and reach out.
Big long sigh. Yes. Indeed.
What a wonderful story! I felt like I was in the back seat with you, Emily. I look forward to reading more of your work and experiencing more of your journeys
I recall visiting a Christmas farm like this near Nerstrand Big Woods State Park. Emily’s multi-layered story adds depth, humor and pathos to my memories of that farm, whose thousands of lights lit up the cloudy sky overhead like a small city. Thanks for the great story!
This story rings sadly true. Time and weather become a metaphor reflecting and supporting an aging family suffering from the vicissitudes of life and a loss of verbal intimacy. We slide by, sometimes on the wrong side of the road, and hold on to small details seen through rain covered windows in the dark countryside. In therapeutic settings, we find that open and honest communication can be transformational. But, that seems a part of dream life that for fear of taking the risk, doesn’t quite make it into our wakeful state, and conclude that life is better remembered than experienced.
a really lovely story…..
Thanks so much for sharing your experience!
Beautiful.
Very nicely written. I love it when a writer focuses on a single moment and opens it up. Usually happens in poetry instead of in an essay.
This is such a lyrical, wonderfully-written musing on faith and growth. Lovely work, Amanda!
Samuel, this piece was beautifully told. The journey into wilderness and the unknown demonstrated literally and metaphorically. It is so good to read a voice like yours in Hippocampus!
Robert, this one had me shadowing the narrator on that languid, suggestive ride in which he made a (perhaps) seminal decision. Dreams manifest and we are given choices based on the real and the imagined … Beautiful writing and a compelling story. Thank you for writing it.
Thank you Pamela! Grateful you gave the piece such a generous read.
A terrific read, thanks
Beautiful.
Great stuff!
a rambling, thoughtful walk in the woods. nicely done
Fun story for the kids
I remember when i also was about to die by an ice berg except i was hit by a car
This was pretty good
I love your writing Amanda!! I pictured this FB stalking ex story as the perfect “spoken word” performance with the right background beat playing in the background as I read it … ??
I have had a beat I produced titled “Behind a Bull” waiting for the perfect spoken wordz to go with it. Im thinkin something like your story wld fit beautifully.
~MizzTaurusBeatz
http://www.soundcloud.com/mizztaurusbeatz
So proud to read another of your fine essays here in Hippocampus, Genevieve. You turn form on its head in all the right ways. Congratulations on a smart, wry piece–humor is so hard to do well, you’ve crafted it perfectly.
This piece had particular resonance for me, as a woman who struggled with infertility until I let the notion of motherhood go. I admired your honesty and insights and was so happy to see that this essay was featured here in HM. It’s a beautiful, memorable piece, Steph.
Can’t wait to meet you. I’ll be staying at the Marriott.
Jayne, I hear I JUST missed you, almost by seconds yesterday. So disappointed that we didn’t connect. 🙁
Me, too! 🙁 My first AWP and I was overwhelmed. Just got home. I think I’ll sleep for a month!
I love this
Fantastic reflection on the things we hide. Truly, this essay is wonderful.
Very lovely, so much compacted in a short piece. I felt I was there!
Thank you for this, Nic. A moving, gutsy and beautiful piece of work.
Mitch, thank you for reading and your kind response ♥
Very powerful and beautifully written and put together. Thank you, Dina.
Thank you for your kind words, Kathleen, and for taking the time to leave them for me! Dina
Very interesting for me, especially since I work primarily with dementia and elderly patients in nursing homes. I wish I could have met your great uncle. I am still wondering how he knows God exists and yet ‘doesn’t believe in Him’, very ironic.
I am impressed by my biophysical chem professors creative writing ability!
You have such a gift, I could picture it in my mind. The images you create are so powerful.
Thank you, Tanis, for the lovely comment ♥
“In a few months when it’s all over – your hurtling car, the parked truck – I’ll be the last to leave the funeral home. The other girls won’t show.
I’ll trace the cuts on your hands with my eyes, stitch us a different ending.”
Just gutted me. A brave piece of writing. Love the gorgeous imagery and how you use it to create a delicate tension, from start to finish.
Thank you, Caitlin, for your response to this piece. I really appreciate your feedback on this memory that is so close to my heart. ♥
Nicole, you’re imagery astounds me. I’m shivering in your cold. A compelling piece!
Thank you Angela, for reading, and your lovely response!
So beautiful. Hurts my heart.
Thank you, Laura, for the comment. My heart hurt, too, writing it… but eventually, after many years, peace.
A different perspective, something to consider. I worked for four months in Delicias, Chihuahua, surrounded by some of the loveliest people I ever met, and immersed in war zone where an average of ten people a day died by gunfire in a town of twenty thousand. Yet, I felt safe. It was 2008 and I was working carving an angel for the Pantheon, or cemetery, and people of all walks of life came to see how it was being made. Once I got taken out to lunch by two guys in a Hummer, who got stopped at a police checkpoint. The driver smiled, cracked open a beer, exchanged a few words, and was let go. “Don’t worry,” he said to me, “we own this town.”
Mexico is different. It’s another country, the beginning of a transition to a whole different continent. Americans who never go are missing something.
Thanks for your perspective, Andrew. I’ve had both beautiful and sad experiences in Mexico. It sounds like you have experienced that dichotomy, too.
Great pacing, nice imagery – ~TH~
Thank you for sharing. You are an inspiration as a mother, writer and human.
A beautifully written, evocative piece. Congratulations!
A vivid, gripping piece that hits close to home. I love the way Nicole uses all of her senses to paint a complete picture of the scene. Thank you for sharing this personal story in such a beautiful way.
Thank you, Eryn. That is a lovely response to my piece.
Nicole, as always, poignant and relevant. I most love that you turned this into a multi-media venture, giving students like Isabel an opportunity to add to their portfolio also. Such a generous and thoughtful soul, you are!
Melissa, thanks so much for your response. It was such a pleasure to share my story with students at my old high school and get a few involved in an art collaboration. Isabel’s photo captures the mood perfectly — coincidentally, I even had a jean jacket like the girl in her photo!
Awesome piece, Nicole!
Thank you so much, Vanessa!
Amazing, so many young people can relate to it, thanks for sharing! 🙂
Thank you, Angel!
Things that jump out at me right away: the numbered breakdown putting the experience in order… the succinct language that creates such a rich set of images…what a fantastic job of letting me experience a fragment of life that is so clearly yours but also feels like it could be mine. A real pleasure to read!
Thank you for the lovely response to my story, Carolyn!
Very powerful and well written. I am so sorry for your pain.
I honestly cried. Sad about the bullying, sad about losing someone so loved.
It’s always a pleasure reading your heartfelt emotional words – I feel it.
Thank you so much, Eryn. I really appreciate your kind words!
Absolutely powerful. I love how your words weave together into a beautiful piece and create such intense emotional response. Thank you for sharing this. So proud of you.
Thanks Amanda, for reading and for responding!
The words just leapt off the page…so powerfully bitter sweet and emotional. An excellent piece.
Thank you, Emily.
Love this essay! That final scene is perfect.
Captures the angst and self doubt of teenage romance perfectly.
Thank you, Shannon, for reading and for your response!
Written with so much emotion…I can feel your pain. The picture captures the emotions perfectly.
Thank you, Cheryl!
I have a very similar situation in my house and with my girl, and we make it work as you two have. Though I miss the opportunity to roll over and see her there beside me, to touch her or pull her close, we are simply not compatible in our sleep regime. Thankfully that’s the only place we aren’t compatible. I hope it continues to work out for you both, and thanks for sharing you story!
Beautifully written Nicole. A bitter sweet, emotional piece that made me feel I was right there with you, in the rain.
Lovely — thank you, Gillian!
I love the Dick and Chuck commentary. It’s fun to see the narrator step outside of the action. Plus they allow the writer to give that tirade at the end, and who can’t love that?
Amazing. I always love reading your work.
Thank you so much, Angela!
Amazing! Thank you for sharing.
Thank you, Pete!
Powerful story!
Thanks, Beans! xo
I love it, shed a tear.
Thanks, Erika, for reading and sharing!
This is, simply stated, fine writing … the sort that could be taught. I was right there with you, all the way Kelly! Beautiful piece of CNF here.
Powerful ending. It knocks you off your feet. This is a great read.
That, Sir was a damn good analysis / explanation. Thanks!
Beautiful, Nicole.
Thank you, Kim, for reading and for sharing!
Your story and faith brought me to tears! Thank you for sharing. As a cops wife your words hit me to the core. My police officer as well as yours and those around the world are in my prayers daily ( often many times a day ) !
Thanks so much for reading, Misty, and thanks to your husband for what he does. Thanks for all you do–law enforcement life seems to include an extra set of marriage vows. I know. Faith is survival. Prayers are powerful. You are not alone. Carry on. Thanks again. ?
Prayers to all my brothers in blue from a Northern Illinois dispatcher.
Hello! I think I need to write a whole separate piece devoted to the very important jobs of dispatchers and all the things you hear, say, so quickly do…and all the things *you* carry. Dispatchers, emergency responders, all branches of law enforcement, etc. play a vital role in saving and protecting lives. Teamwork. Team effort. Blue Family. There’s nothing like it. Thanks for what you do. Thank you for reading.
I loved reading your article!! It was very touching and I couldn’t hold back the tears. I am currently going to college and after I graduate, I plan on going to the academy. This is such a great reminder and I will keep this reminder dear to my heart for whenever I meet my future husband and start my journey in law enforcement. God bless you!! 🙂
-Julia
Hi Julie, thank you, thank you! Finish college, kick butt, fight through that academy with every ounce of motivation you have. Get out there. Protect. Serve. Save lives. Bless you for the duty and the calling you’ve chosen to accept. There is no greater love. You are admired. Every step of the journey, you are not alone. You can do ALL things. Thanks again for reading.
Yes, yes, yes. I’m always blessed, honored, and humbled to hear from a fellow LEO’s loved one. Thank you for reading and for understanding every word–an automatic bond. And thank you, too, for your heartfelt encouragement (such must be a part of your own calling, for sure). You lifted me up today (and all who might read). Thank you.
Wonderful article Melissa. I lived that same life as a daughter of an ISP. It is truly a life of service for the trooper and for his family. We spent a few years in Streator/ Blue Island and 7 years in Joliet District 5 – and then came to Southern IL….quite a difference for sure. You learn many things on this journey – however, the most important lesson you learn – is to never part ways without a hug and a kiss and the heartfelt words of “I love you”. You truly never know when that fear of the last call will become reality. Dad said the same thing regarding the smaller community – you know those names and places when you get the call…..and your heart beats a little faster for sure. May God bless you and your husband with many wonderful years in the law enforcement “calling”. We are all called to do His work….what a wonderful way to live that calling.
As I set here reading your letter, it reminded me of the Submarines I served on.
Think of those wives and children watching their husbands subs sailing out to sea, and watching till they can not see the sub anymore, some still stay there an watch for a while. Never to see, or hear from them for 70+ days (Sometimes much more if your subs relief is delayed do to some mechanical or electrical problem and you are extended 10 more days on station till they fine another sub to releeve your sub!) at a time as a sub is not suppose to be detected while on patrol, and never breaks radio silence unless they have a problem and must leave station early. If that message is not heard, then they will be home when they get home. Think of the wives and Kids of the USS SCORPION SSN-586 thinking everything was ok and one more day till Daddy gets home, till they got that call. “Your husband sub is overdue”. We will inform you when we have more information. Time flies, and you wait by the phone. Then that call comes, “Sub down, and all are lost”. That is what the wives and children of a Submariner goes through every time her husband heads to sea, even if it is for only a few days on sea trials like the USS THRESHER SSN-593. I see complaints from soldiers wives that they have not had a phone call from their husband in a week, or had and email in two days. So, remember normally there are others out there waiting too.
You are absolutely right. Thank you for your service and sacrifice and to all those who’ve worried and waited for loved ones to return. I think you must be a writer. You have important stories to tell. Thank you for reading and replying.
Thank you for your kind comint. No, I am no writer. I am dyslexic, and it is very hard for me to write. However, I do try now and then. I was still taking Sophomore English in my Senior year on HS when I quit school and joined the Navy. Reading is ok, wut writing it hard. Lucky I had a good memory, and normally understand something the first time I read it, and can retain it. But when I write something I may misspell the same word three or four times in the same sentence. I wish I could write nearly as good as you do. Your words were very meaningful to me, that was why I decided to write to you. Thanks again.
Wow, Thank you Joanne. They are lucky to have you and your support in their lives. I’ve been able to find a lot of comfort through support groups just by writing this article, expressing honest feelings, and sharing my voice. You definitely have a large extended law enforcement family! I thank them all (officers and your nieces) for wearing the badge and for holding it up. Blessings <3
Is this the whole version of your letter? Its so moving to read. I am a police recruit hopeful, newlywed. This is something that touches me very much. I became faithful and id like to say i found my god after i married my wife and once i started pursuing law enforcement. This essay/letter says much and i wish it was longer still. Thank you for sharing. when i get my chance to serve, i pray i remember these words.
Eduardo, thanks for reading! I just want to take a moment to encourage you. I think it takes a special person, a selfless heart, a mental toughness, a warrior mindset, and extreme self-discipline and control to want to pursue your dream. When you are in the academy, remember that most of it is a mind game to make you stronger, remember to take every push-up, every mile, every question on a test, and every hour at a time. Remember, when you get to come home, to savor every moment with your wife. Best of luck to you. Yes, I have a hundred more pages. My own dream is that you’ll read them in s book some day. God bless you.
God bless you dear, you and all law enforcement spouses. I pray my 3 nieces who are married to officers, can keep as much faith and grace as you possess as they live parallel lives to you.
Beautiful! You’ve succeeded in making me want to go to Missouri — who knew?
So beautifully written, and so true to so many wives. Thank you for putting into words how so elequently, how it is, being a police officer’s wife.
Thank you, Pam, for reading and commenting. I think I wanted, first, to give my police officer a voice and to say all of the things he couldn’t say. After about a hundred pages, I found my own. Bless you for automatically understanding this law enforcement life. Carry on. ?
Well done, Lea! First of all, I love it that you write about hoarfrost! I also love this sentence: “She hadn’t yet packed her pointe shoes and her leotards and her pillow and her notebooks into the pick-up truck, and we hadn’t yet driven for two days across a thousand miles to Michigan, and we hadn’t hauled her stuff up to her new dorm room, and we hadn’t met her roommate, and we hadn’t fitted the sheets onto the thin mattress, and we hadn’t realized yet that it was time for us to go— right then—to leave her at that school that was bustling with deliciously nutty and creative teenagers who were all dreaming their dreams.” Congratulations!
Thank you so much, Lynn!
I’ve never lived in Detroit but it is the American city I know best, having visited countless family and friends there over the past five decades. You have captured the humanity of a city constantly under threat of having its humanity rendered irrelevant. It’s Detroit’s people that will ultimately provide the winning formula for its future. Well considered, nicely written and generously shared.
Ah yes, the intrepid Doug Thiele. Traipsing through the punk wood of Virginia’s swamps in search of the dead things that always interested him more than the living things he made. This self-indulgent monument to tripe is representative of all his works. Never driven by blood. Never an architecture of flesh in his decaying expositions. Drawling and sophomoric, his anti-poetry reeks like a corpse long buried beneath pages of pointless images. Like the mildew-ridden books he seeks, he himself is a relic of a vain subterfuge created to beguile the world from the truth of his own existence. He is a fraud. A fiction. A not so cleverly disguised icon of his own design. I know Doug Thiele. Intimately. And though you may see a crafty, and mildly amusing old man, I know the monster he truly is.
Lovely beyond description.
Just wonderful!
Thank you 9mas! Happy wishes now and in the new year to come!
A rare thing in a ironic, post-modern literary world — a writer who is unafraid to put honest sentiment forward.
Wonderful essay, Mary! Such a revealing look at the way war and politics creep into every aspect of life, doing untold damage–leaving scars that last lifetimes and beyond.
Wow, what a poignant moment in time you’ve captured here. It makes me feel again what it was like to be 25.
just gorgeous!
The best part of one of Marcia’s stories is that they are not stories at all. I remember so many of the incidents she mentions from our long, and sometimes short talks. The amazing part of Marcia’s stories is how she takes the scattered strands of her life and weaves them into something beautiful. I will never get tired of that. Well done, Mar.
Fern,
And it’s amazing how much our lives are weaved together–then and now! Thank you, my dear friend!
Mar
Beautiful Marcia. What a blessing to have your mom so close by through your amazing daughter. Fran is awesome and so are you. congratulations on this endearing story. We sure do love our moms and your mom obviously was so instrumental in you becoming an amazing mom, able to raise two great children……congratulations on a life continuing to be well lived!
Chris, thank you always! And for all you shared with your Mom and with us!
Nice. I was skimming through openings, not planning to read anything all the way through, but yours got me. You’ve caught something everyday and important. Cheers —
The blend of personal experience and political backdrop is seamless. The tragedy for the mothers involved and the child represents the suffering of so many children not only in Guatemala but in many countries. Ms. Scherf’s writing is eloquent yet without sentimentality. The context provided enriches the understanding of what she suffered through this injustice rendered against her. As an attorney, I empathize with her lingering discontent with her inability to fully clear her name in spite of all the information that has since been released. Although events transpired years ago, the reality of the corruption which pervades international adoptions is current. I applaud Ms. Scherf’s courage to tell this story which needs to be heard.
Very moving. A world few of us have seen, and evocatively described.
Well done. Grest ending.
Nice!
Thanks Kenny!
Excellent! Love it!
Well done!
Wow! So well done. I love how your imagery creates an atmosphere of instant intimacy for the reader.
Wow! Perfectly executed! Wonderful work!
Oh, this piece was so memorable when I read it as a submission! The story was raw, poignant and real. Great essay, Marissa.
A very brave piece; should be an interesting book.
Beautiful and heart-breaking.
A week after reading this piece, young Marissa is still in my thoughts.
Young Mary is so real, I felt like I was part of the bunch if grapes. I agree with Clara. I want to spend more time with this child and her family.
I quickly discovered, after moving to London from Canada ten years ago, that most legendary London sites – Trafalgar Square, Downing Street, St Paul’s – are just on the way to other places. Abbey Road may truly be just another street, but you are right about the palpable Beatles aura that hovers around the studio and that zebra crossing. I live on the other side of town, in the south east, and I took the pilgrimage to St John’s Wood ten years ago. I haven’t had the nerve to go back since.
Bittersweet. And beautiful. I want you to write a book so I can be enveloped in your words and imagery.
Wonderful Mary, I loved every word!!
Mr. Miller! This is beautiful.
So beautifully written
Marissa, this is amazing.
This story breaks my heart in a million different ways, a million different pieces. I can barely breathe. Bravo, Dina.
Thank you Jayne. I was just wrapping a gift yesterday and once again, as I was cutting too much paper, I thought of Josh. And I wondered how many people who have read this will have a fleeting thought of a boy they’d never met next time they run a pair of scissors up a roll of wrapping paper. The very idea that there may be one is enough to glue some of those pieces back together. Thank you so much for reading and taking the time to leave a comment, Jayne.
Wow I guess this reviewer did not get the part where my dormant spiritual life blossomed after I joined a church
post breakup – or where I landed a full time job as a college professor post breakup- or where I healed my
relationship with my mother after the break up. That was the healing and the growth. The reviewer also seems
to have completely missed the book’s humor. – Kate Walter, author
Like the author’s daughters, I, too, loved fairy tales. When I was young, I read and reread every fairy tale book in the library. I never thought about the larger themes in fairy tales. I like how, in this essay, those themes flow so poetically and visually.
What a terrific reflection!
This piece … it resonated with me immediately as a HM reader, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it. Tending to the least and most fragile among us with hope and fervor, and then processing the futility when our best efforts inexplicably fail, is one of life’s eternal lessons. But it wasn’t just this tender and interesting story–it was the way the writer treated the material, masterfully balancing information, science, observation with lyricism and insights, make this a piece I want to read again and again.
Pamela, your insight re: “tending to the least and most fragile among us with hope and fervor” — yes and yes! You captured the essence of what the piece was trying to convey. And I hope the responses to this story helps more “science-y” writes find a home in HM and other literary magazines.
Your work was extraordinary, Jeanine. I read a LOT of work between Hippocampus and another journal, and I will always remember this one. I shared this on my FB wall and it got wonderful comments. The ending is so, so strong:
“Gently lifting Bitty out of the terrarium, I take her outside and offer her back to the elements. My heart cracks open but does not break. I accept that our interventions into the lives of others, no matter how well-intentioned or well-crafted they may be, are quixotic and ephemeral.
We can offer a hand, some food for the soul.
But we must offer what we offer with palms open, fingers splayed.
No grasping.”–beautiful.
As a HM reader, it is wonderful to put a name and face to a piece that utterly enthralled me. Congratulations, Carol, I was a BIG fan of this essay. This is one of the strongest endings I’ve read in our queue: “So in the waking hours, after the dream comes, I lie there and sort the contents of my house, and houses past and houses of others I have loved. I pick each item up, hold it in my mind’s eye.
I walk through my palace, my life. And I realize, everything I will need to take, I already have with me.”–spot-on elegant!
The part that I don’t like is that it ends. I guess someone has to know when to stop.
Jeanine, this was so beautiful on so many levels. My heart also cracked when Bitty expired despite the fact she/he was a creature that would normally cause me to cringe. I suspect we are all fury creatures in the end – desperate to understand a small portion of an unknowable universe in the hope it might delay our inevitable demise. I will reread this many times.
Deborah – I believe when we can relate to one individual, and truly *see* that individual, our heart does crack open. And yes, we are all furry critters! (big smile)
This is just so…seamless. I love it. Thanks for sharing your memories, especially the tough ones.
Cool. Living to tell the tale.
Thanks, Patrick. And a hell of a job with Gun, Needle, Spoon to you!
Oh Dina. Gave me goosebumps as I read along, not knowing how bad his end was going to be…only that it was going to be bad… Textured and visceral evocation of adolescence, too.
Thanks, Alice. That adolescent angst is my comfort zone with writing, I think. I seem to come back to it no matter what I do. I’m glad it works in this piece. I feel a bit like Josh was a wounded bird, a wing clipped early on–and no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, he was never going to fly without pain. But again, these are only my memories and observations from the back of the class. Thanks so much for reading and taking the time to leave a comment. I really appreciate it.
Jeanine, this is exquisitely written. I can really feel the bat’s tiny body. The wider context is well stated as well.
I hope you share more of your adventures with us – and I pray the outcomes for the creatures lucky enough to meet you are much brighter.
The smaller the organism, especially a mammal or bird, the more susceptible to dehydration, as I’m sure you know. Surface area to volume. Perhaps trauma weakened Bitty and made drinking difficult, and a combination of factors led to her demise.
……….
Small correction (typo?): In the lovely French quotation you open with, someone dropped an R; it should be non-réveillé.
Lo, thank you for your insights. Living in a rural area, the best I – and we! – can do for the many creatures we encounter is: (1) slow down (!!) and (2) do everything possible to protect and restore their homes.
Congratulations. Well deserved. Lovely.
I am the keeper of my family’s history. Thousands of pages of letters and diaries plus documents from the old country and Chicago past. I’ve read them all and have two blogs capturing my discoveries and insights of family and history (lindagartz.com). Some people would have just tossed all this old paper. What good is it? To melt cheese upon? Carol’s essay resonated with me on every level. It’s not living in the past to keep certain things. It’s bringing the past to life. Because my grandparents and parents refused to relegate their history to the trash heap of time, it will eventual reside in Chicago’s renowned research institution, The Newberry Library for future generations to follow a family throughout the twentieth Century and learn about the past–perhaps inform their future. Thank you for this poignant essay, capturing so much of the author’s being, losses, and memories she holds onto.
Brava! Well done.
Poignant and touching!
Thank you so much, Jennifer!
Spot on, terrific writing about one of those boys we all knew.
I think you’re right, we did all (do all?) know a boy like that. It’s heartbreaking, more so in hindsight. I think growing up is so fraught with its own perils that it’s difficult to pay attention to anything outside your own person. As an adult, as a mother, you can see the nuances much more clearly. Which sometimes makes it even more terrifying.
Yay, yay, yay!!
Splendid. Loved every word, animated and real.
Thanks so much, Bill. I really appreciate that!
It’s always fascinating to get a glimpse into the way someone else grew up, like pressing your face against a candy-store window. This was like smoking the candy cigarettes, a little bit illicit, a little naughty, but a treat all the same. Congratulations!
Charise, what a powerful piece. I wasn’t expecting the focus to be on Joyce, but it was exactly what we, as readers, needed to get through the pain of your brother’s murder–which is exactly what you needed as well. To read the story of Russell and your family filtered through Joyce’s softened it just enough–just–to make the reader able to feel just a modicum of that wild fury you speak of. Just a grain or so. You humanized him through Joyce enough to make us hate him, not just as the murderer of your problem, but as a human as well. No easy feat. Congratulations on your honorable mention here.
Tyler, first off, congratulations. This piece resonated, much like the ice itself. I love the idea of stories cracking, and even melting somewhat–at least enough to mix and meld with the next, to form something new. As you said, the myths and stories themselves are living things. But perhaps what I like best is learning of the everyday ordinariness of the Innuit myths–not filled with magic beyond what was available to all: courage, strength, belief, cunning and perhaps a healthy dose of luck, but instead of the things that make up all the days around us. It makes them so much more accessible–but maybe in the end that accessibility is what endangers them as well. Congrats again on a beautiful piece.
A beautiful treatise on how our ‘things’ are woven through with emotion and memory, until it’s difficult to tell the difference between them sometimes. Until, as your dreams remind you, you are forced to. What an eloquent piece, Carol, and a well-deserved accolade. Congratulations!
Great piece. So well written!
Thank you, Kelly!
I love this one!
I really like how this author opened up with a beautiful quote from Anatole France “Until one has loved an animal, part of one’s soul remains unawakened.” I really felt that quote embedded into her article from start to finish in such a humble approach.
Silvia – your in-depth reading is much appreciated!
As someone who doesn’t keep much– my daughter claims my motto could be “throw it out or melt cheese on it”– I loved the construction of the house of memory, the palace of life. Lovely, lovely essay.
Excellent presentation of facts.
Bravo! Your writing is fucking amazing. I was so moved by your humanity and honesty. Look forward to reading more from you.
Thank you so, so much, Jayne! I truly appreciate your kind words. Find me on Facebook if you’d like.
Funny is relatable and powerful. I discovered my “funny” writing voice for my memoir-and instantly felt power over the pain and shit.
Gorgeous rendering of love, loss, and the colors of life.
read Holding Still for as Long as Possible by Zoe Whittal
Gregg, I love your choice of voice in this piece. Such an honest and sweet story,
Melanie, this is such a powerful piece of story telling. Love your use of first person and your creation of the man as almost a shadow figure. A wonderful read. Bravo!
Thank you so much, Jayne. I’m grateful for these kind words.
Extremely classy, Casey. Thank you.
Thanks, Donna!
This piece has such heart.
Beautiful writing. You weave.past and present together seamlessly.
Great piece! So funny yet so poignant.
Wonderful! Sounds like perfection to me.
You have such a unique and charming voice . I loved this piece.
Exquisite. May I just suggest that you cut that last paragraph as “…that which I’ve already poisoned” is so very powerful. Bravo! A joy to read.
This essay is both grace-full and so very human. I loved every sentence, and the circularity of the image of the struck deer, and then the herd of deer was haunting. Beautiful writing.
An utterly gobsmacking piece about the burdens depression and parenting and the poignant joy of giving life. This is well-done, Trace Ramsey.
Thank you, Pamela.
Holy crap this is a stunning piece of flash CNF.
What a riveting story, told with just the right amount of irony and compassion. Wonderful essay, Spencer.
Thank you Pamela!
I never got to read this one as an HM reader, my loss. In a word, masterful. One of my favorites that we’ve published this year. Beautifully written, Rocky!
I remember being a reader for this piece and how much your rendering of this experience, the moments you chose to highlight (like the wasp smashing against the window, or the antics of your son) drew me in to your story. This is a wonderful essay, Sarah.
This is beautiful, gobble-inducing writing. What a palpable, real, but lyrically rendered story. Beautiful, elegant work Amanda.
I never had the pleasure of reading this work before it was accepted, I’m so glad that in reviewing essays for Pushcart prize nominations I’ve now read this unusual, masterfully told story.
What an engaging, incredible story. This is a part of the world I would never otherwise glimpse, and framing the constraints of apartheid in that pivotal time of change in South Africa against the metaphor of the captured dove is so beautifully done. Wonderful job, Gail!
I am so sorry for what happened to you, Rick, and as another writer who found some release through telling the story (and other therapy), I applaud you for your courage and craft. This is a very well-told essay that does a wonderful job of condensing the scope and breadth of this ugly phenomenon, giving us the most keenly felt impressions. Very important piece.
Thank you
I’m glad that you have also been able to recover, as much as any of us can.
It was therapeutic to have my story told and out in the open.
It did help me but when I wrote it that wasn’t my main reason.
I had a step daughter and as I watched her grow I realized that although I couldn’t stop bad things from happening I could, by speaking out, perhaps help her not suffer through what became a deep, dark and evil secret.
The silence nearly killed me.
And those, like the bishop of Sault Sainte Marie, who continue, even under the disapproval of the Pope, to silence and ignore the victims, need to be called out and held accountable
This is an important essay, balances personal anecdote with introspection and social relevance. I liked it very, very much.
An intelligent, evocative personal story of grappling with the notion of faith. Thank you for writing this, Leslie.
This is a beautiful, unusual short homage to mother and grief essay.
So glad to have finally read this nicely arc’d, slice of post-modern life.
This was one of my favorite reads last year. If this is an example of your collection, Jenny Clover, I’ll be buying it.
This was a fantastic essay!
Hayli, this is magical. It’s poetry. Your visuals are stunning. I’ve never read anything quite like it. What a pleasure. I look forward to reading more from you.
I’m so glad you enjoyed it! I don’t think I’ve ever had more fun writing a piece. Thank you for taking the time to comment such kind words!
This piece is haunting. Such a beautiful use of the lyrical form. Bravo.
Beautiful piece!
Why, thank you!
Thanks so much for the mention!
Well Done. A topic many shy away from but are curious about.
Well Done!
Hi Paul, this is a Creative-Commons-licensed photo of mine; would you mind providing attribution as per the license? https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/
https://www.flickr.com/photos/dominicotine/5980831098
Dominick – the attribution is added to the live page; thanks for letting us know that it wasn’t showing up on the page. Fixed now! Great shot; it complemented this story so well. Thank you for making your work available for others to use through Creative Commons. -DT, editor
Thank you for the fix and the prompt reply! Much appreciated, and glad my photo fit well 🙂
So glad you’re still among the living! I thoroughly enjoyed your story.
Love it! Things may not be so bad afterall for other couples with similar sleep habits! Glad you have found creative ways to deal with this…
You do favor your famous father.very nice story.
I absolutely love this piece! Charles Bukowski was amazing at being raw and real. Beautifully written and well said!
Jen, much appreciated!
Oh oh! I think you’re saying that I might have replaced on addiction with another! Great piece. I have to say that listening to people is its own reward.
: )
Love it!
Over the top…in so many ways…
“Over the top?” I would say it’s brave, and if you read her memoir, “No One Crosses the Wolf,” you will probably agree.
I shouldn’t call myself a writer, because I can’t find the words to write to express how great this piece is. You are raw and real and unafraid. I love that!
Thank you!
Very witty and in the end so profound it takes you by surprise. Beautiful writing.
Thanks, Martin. This is one of the hardest essays I’ve ever written. Striking the correct balance is always hard, but this one was particularly difficult.
Wish I had known being a low-life was okay earlier in my life. It would have saved me a lot of time and energy. Thanks, Casey.
Thank you, Jean!
Poignant truths, wonderfully told. Terrific vision, Casey.
Thank you, David.
Hysterical and heartfelt. Great piece!
Fantastic flash fiction! The image of the briefcase made me gasp audibly.
Jesus, Casey. That’s fucking beautiful, man. Deep and painful, and beautiful. I need to go sob for a while.
Thank you, Steph!
I admire your brave honesty in a story well told.
Gorgeous writing! The reading is done, but I’m still reverberating. Beautiful. And I’m sorry about your dad, regardless of how long ago he left….
True to the core.
Thank you, thank you!
beautiful, beautiful piece! stark, raw, real, gripping. Just gorgeous. thank you!!
Thank you, Sue. I appreciate the kind words. (Sorry I’m so late in my response. I didn’t scroll down to the comments section until now!
Haunting, mesmerizing.
For the first time, EVER, today I was asked if I could spare food. I was exiting McDonald’s. I caved and gave him one chicken nugget. I only had a four-piece, or maybe I would have spared two.
This is an amazing piece of writing. Congratulations.
This is hysterical. I love it. And can so relate to your dilemma. Hey — five bucks is five bucks. For me it’s every time I see someone with a sign and a dog. The dog is the clincher.
A brave piece of writing brilliantly executed.
Charming!
What a great writer! Sensitive, perceptive, and such an excellent vocabulary!
So much to appreciate in such a short piece: honesty (and the places chosen to withhold it), humor and a way of bringing me right along with you into the tea shop through your descriptions. Thank you for sharing your too long tea!
I had to do some good, deep breathing to get through this piece. Grief shared is not necessarily grief made easier, but there is comfort in seeing another’s broken places, unhidden. Thank you for sharing.
I heart this book so much.
Me too. I can’t stop thinking about it. Still.
Heartbreakingly beautiful, Sarah. Deeply moving to anyone who has experienced a premature loss. Thank you for these honest, lovely, loving words.
Brilliant.
Thanks, man. You’ve been such a positive force for me, supporting my writing from the moment we were first spoke.
I love the title thought it was going to be about a shy boy or girl but it was the rantings, thoughts of an undecided nation-who do we “help” when, why,why not and how much. Well done.
This is a solid, necessary piece. I venture to guess that anyone who takes umbrage with what you say here is the same person who wouldn’t take perhaps your most salient point to heart– you get better by writing consistently, sure. But you continue to grow and, dare I say, become a “writer” when you are able to identify where your own weaknesses lie, and humbly seek help in order learn how to strengthen your writing. People should worry less about “looking the part” and more about filling the page. Well done.
“But you continue to grow and, dare I say, become a “writer” when you are able to identify where your own weaknesses lie, and humbly seek help in order learn how to strengthen your writing.” Stop saying things better than I said them! Haha. For real, you hit the nail on the head, and I’m so, so glad to read your words. Thank you.
Brilliant writing. Seems like you’ll do ok.
You stir up lots of thoughts, It’s a really nice piece that does that.
1. I too would be incensed at a religion that would prevent my partner from saving my life. And I’d be incensed at my partner for being part of that. But then again, I”d never hook up with anyone that believed that. Which begs the question. Why was he with her? For myself and my own story, I have a hard time with family members who vote for candidates because they promote the rights of fetuses over the rights of their living breathing, ever so queer sibling. But I didn’t choose them and they didn’t choose me. So why was he with her?
2. That’s idiotic. Blow jobs are not an inalienable right. Your father is a prick.
3. Wow – at least he left when he realized he nearly killed your mother. Do people run FROM their own violence, or do they run TOWARD it? That matters a lot to me, and in my opinion your dad did the right thing. After nearly killing your mother, which was most definitely a horrible thing. Then again, maybe he just ran off because he realized he could have gone to jail if he’d actually killed her. That might be the more likely motive. Not the right thing at all. If the road to hell is paved with good intentions then is the road to heaven paved with bad intentions? You know him, I do not.
On the sum of it, I gather that your father is probably is not what most people would consider “a good guy”, just like on the sum of it, neither was mine. Well actually mine was, but on the FACE of it, not on the sum of the facts. Patiently teaching me two point perspective when I was ten years old doesn’t make up for years of bugger. Maybe if my Dad had been your dad he’d have run off instead of sticking around to literally fuck up his kids.
In a nutshell:
People are so damn complicated.
WOW. You sure know how to write, my friend. This is powerful.
So strong! Shine on, Charlotte. That little bit of bitch has helped many of us to survive.
Impressive. A bold and brave memoir.
As a dog onwer, I was moved to tears. Your writing is eloquent. Just enough pathos and details. Nora was so real to me.
a 20 year old fucking a 13 year old isn’t a “sex addict”, that’s a fucking rapist
Nora you need to learn you cannot make generalizations about these situations while what this man did certainly isn’t right and is indeed STATUTORY rape you cannot call this man a rapist for all you know the girl gave full consent and I have heard of and seen first hand cases where these kinds of situations occur that the underage participant is fully understanding and consenting.
so do you just go trawling through posts that are nearly a year old looking for something to drop rape apology on or what
I appreciate the support Lisa Johnson Mitchell and SL Wisenberg. It was a difficult story to put out into the world, but I’ve had no regrets.
This story triggers so many memories of college and my single days in New York. Powerfully rendered. Thank you.
I loved the voice in this. Wonderful essay.
I heard you read this at Hippocamp and have since emailed it to my father (who is a big flatulence fan) and several friends. I love this essay so much! You did a wonderful job!!
Hi, Hannah- First, HOW can it be that a MONTH has passed since Hippocamp?!? I’m embarrassed that I didn’t see your message for eons. But, thank you for taking the time to comment and to say such generous things! I haven’t met a dad yet who isn’t a big flatulence fan, which is both disturbing and comforting since I’m on the team. 😀 Tell your dad that I welcome him to the club!
Georgia, this is such a powerful piece. The voice broke my heart. I was grabbed by the first sentence and held fast to the end.
Please note: the ebay sale of “25 Lives” is ending soon, but you can purchase that book (and other works of Lisa’s) at http://www.suckdog.net
Thanks so much. I want to sock him for you.
This essay is startling and insightful! The confluence of images works really well, too.
Simplistic, masterful…Holds your attention throughout. Beautifully done
Riveting & heartbreaking
This is awesome. A perfect little universe.
The photograph of Lisa was taken by Walter Moczygemba in 2013. Thank you, Walter.
This piece seized my heart and my gut and gave me chills. It’s lack of resolution makes for a perfect ending. Fantastic (btw, Disqus is insisting that I post under my old name, Rachael Rosner, which I’ve changed to Rachael Marks. I’m in the August issue, too).
A beautiful, thoughtful piece. Bravo, Tasia!
beautiful and poignant
Thank you Rich. I appreciate your comments. I’m happy that my daughter and her friends are starting college at a time when date rape is being discussed openly, both in the academic world and the press.
This is an excellent piece. The reader can truly feel the range of emotions, yet the writing is well done and not trite. In addition, this is an important read given the many similar incidents on college campuses today.
This is a great read.
I felt you relaxing me with your words. This is a subject I’m terrified of, and you made it make sense. I love it.
Wonderful story. My family is biracial as well. My wonderful white partner (now my ex) had her daughter with her black husband and then decided she was gay. So my stepdaughter had several issues to deal with. We kept hearing “is she adopted?” then after the next intake of breath they would pause and say “Oh. Oh.”
Wonderful writing, Sarah. Congrats on having an essay published here. Are you by any chance going to go to the Hippocampus conference in August?
“Chucklefucker.” That’s hysterical!
It takes talent to hold a reader on the topic of split ends. The things we obsess over. Still, you’re right. In the grand scheme of things, “hair picking” is pretty benign. This was fun read.
Wonderful piece, Jenny.
Such great writing about a subject so many shy away from. Thanks, Liz!
does comedy clubs help you to unwind; since we live in such a wired society where you can’t be yourself and let your hair down? A chance to not take yourself so seriously?
That’s pretty much it. Comics are the only people I’ve found around whom I can totally be myself (super weird and silly) and not worry about offending someone or being embarrassed. And they’re the only people who act this way, too, being totally themselves and not taking anything seriously. Everyone else has some kind of agenda in life; comics ONLY want to get a laugh.
An important core idea about the draft of writing filled with many brilliant examples. Fine writing, Casey Telesk.
Quite an honor to hear this from a guy as talented as you. Thank you, Martin.
This is an excellent commentary, so often massage therapists sit in this weird space where boundaries are fluid and we don’t know how to deal or what to do. Thanks for writing this 😀
This is the best commentary I have ever read on this subject.
So many stories in one. Thank you, for all of them
Wonderful secret and wonderful article, Kim. And now the secret is out, so close the shades. I can’t remember if you danced in Toronto. Maybe a little? I miss my dance partner of 42 years and dancing makes me feel that absence. And dancing alone is deep soul work. Third to last paragraph touches on this–beautifully and lightly. Thank you.
Best comment ever. Actually, I was so serious about this idea that I wrote a tiny business plan and went to SCORE, where I was thoroughly discouraged from starting this business. My business mentor was a Debbie Downer, but I believed him. I was very young.
Sarah is such a true person, no b.s. going on. I’m anxious to read her book which sounds fascinating. I also applaud her for writing what she sees as a character’s ‘truth’ even if others doubt that. Good Q&A!
Thanks so much, Susan, for your wonderful words. It was a pleasure to interview Sarah! -Lori M. Myers
Thank you for this review. I just read this book and saw that it is much more nuanced than the popular press it has been getting. It is not, as some have suggested, a screed against having children. It is an invitation to learn of, and maybe consider, a life in which traditional marriage and parenthood are not at the center. It helps to answer the question of what then IS the center, or whether a center is required. I share a little of your skepticism, but then, no one’s story is universal, or meant to be.
An intelligent article written by an intelligent guy! I look forward to reading more.
Thank you!
An exquisite article.
Wonderful words. Thank you.
OOOOH, so talented. But with some really good explanation on technique. Well done!
Hey, thanks!
Well, Hello Peter, friend and classmate, I’ve lost contact with!
I had no idea of your health problems.
Glad to see you are well now!
You’re handsome as ever!
BTW 30ish Class Reunion is coming up in July. Look me up on fb. There’s a reunion page on there too.
God, that’s a hard hit. I know that place. I don’t like knowing other people share it, but hearing how you get through it is powerful. Thank you.
Thank you, Kristen.
Que coincidência. Olha o que eu escrevi aqui:
http://emiliopacheco.blogspot.com.br/2012/05/dia-das-maes.html
An essay bordering on prose poetry, with wood as a metaphor, from a writer who lives well north of the Arctic Circle, in a land without trees…. And an essay with an ending that will resonate with writers from all latitudes.
your the best!
Wow Jeff.. So much of what you wrote hit home for me as I felt like I relived my mom’s story 6 years ago. Beautiful, heartfelt and so true to the end of life experience. Thanks for sharing the love and loss
I’ve got to save this. Tight powerful writing at its best. Loved the bio.
Wow, I’m in love worth this piece, John. The voice. The darkness. You’re in incredible writer. This is something I’ll read again and again to learn.
Strong.
What an amazing piece of writing, John. It took hold of me and would not let go. I feel privileged to have had the opportunity to read it. Standing ovation here! Bravo!
Love this, like a graduation speech for folks of a different age. We still need this type of advice/reflection, don’t you think? It should not be reserved for the coeds.
Every place you mention, every station, every port, every mission (including just missing out on recovering a space capsule) brings back memories to this old Navy guy. Your dad is lucky to have you to publish this very complimentary and honest remembrance. I am trying to leave enough clues around to make the job easier for my son and grandkids.
John Matthews
you are a rock star! every word filled with emotion and truth and love. thank you for sharing your story.
Congratulations, John Branscum, on a story that feels like a mini-legend of sorts. This piece, this writing … with moments like this: “He tunes into his surroundings.
The electric generator rhythmically thumping like a wet towel smacking metal, the crickets chirping, the groaning of the trailer as it slowly sinks into the earth as all things must. And then there it is again! A woman’s voice. Whispering his name. He strokes my mother’s cheek to see if she’s awake. She’s not.”–I was proud to have read it. Really stunning work.
I remind you that many famous people in Russia are graduates of orphanages
• Lydia Ruslanova singer.
• Nina Ruslanova actress.
• Stanislav Sadalsky actor.
Heroes of the Soviet Union Alexander Matrosov, Simon Village, Tsaplin Paul (who died in Spain). They fought against Hitler fascism.
• Valentin Dikul, circus artist, a doctor.
Gezalov Alexander, head except for “Balance”. >>> Author of the autobiographical book “Salt childhood”
• Anatoly Pristavkin, writer, advisor to the President of the Russian Federation. The book “slept Golden Cloud”
• Victor Astafjevs, writer,
• Nikolai Hubenko. Minister of Culture of Russia.
• Nikolai Rubtsov, the poet,
• Alexander Doroshenko, a champion of the Paralympic Games for disabled in Athens
• Ruben David Gonzalez Gallego, pisatel.laureatom Booker Prize for his novel “White on Black”
• Denis Rogov, “The pupil first orphanage, then a correctional school, and finally boarding, he grew an amazing man – well studied all 12 years old, writes music, sang with Montserrat Caballe, met with the Pope, and now a student of the Institute of Mathematics and Far Eastern State University of Computer Science. ”
• Anatoly Efimenko, a cleric of the Assumption Cathedral in Smolensk, the head of the Missionary Department of the Smolensk diocese, Fr.
It is impossible to enumerate all the famous people who have been brought up in an orphanage. A lot of people in Russia.
You should know that Russia is against the use of alternative therapies to Russian children. United States has not shown great results in treating our children. Western Europe makes it more successful and more humane than the United States. Your cries of polls FASD among Russian orphans are not the truth. If you have problems with the treatment and education of Russian children … you had to adopt American children with cerebral palsy or Down syndrome. There are many orphans in the United States. You want to blame Russia and show the world that you are an American saint? You know how many homeless people in the United States? You know how many orphans in the United States? In Russia was a default and economic crisis ….. What happened in the United States if such high juvenile crime and so many orphans in the United States? You have adopted Peter and six months later the boy was enuresis and encopresis in the United States. You loved him, these 6 months or angry that the child has FAS? The body of the child reacted to your frustration and anger. Your book has literary value, but this book has no medical value. When Peter finally will be in a psychiatric clinic ….. your book will be quite impaired, because the successful promotion and socialization of children with FASD is not uncommon. Mad house for a foster child ………… is very poor results in the adoption and treatment. What is your favorite Dr. Federici receive additional negative points. You adopt a child to raise it but not to write a book and PR.
You should know that Russia is against the use of alternative therapies to Russian children. The United States has not shown great results in treating our children. Western Europe makes it more successful and more humane than the United States. Your cries of polls FASD among Russian orphans are not the truth, and the truth. If you have trouble … I had to adopt American children with cerebral palsy or Down syndrome. There are many orphans in the United States. You want to blame Russia and show the world that you are an American saint? You know how many homeless people in the United States? You know how many orphans in the United States? In Russia was a default and economic crisis ….. What happened in the United States if such high juvenile crime and so many orphans in the United States? You have adopted Peter and six months later the boy was enuresis and encopresis in the United States. You loved him, these 6 months or angry that the child has FAS? The body of the child reacted to your frustration and anger. Your book has literary value, but this book has no medical value as well as all the books sadistic Nancy Thomas. When Peter finally will be in a psychiatric clinic ….. your book will be quite impaired, because the successful promotion and socialization of children with FASD is not uncommon. Mad house for a foster child ………… is very poor results in the adoption and treatment. What is your favorite Dr. Federici receive additional negative points.
Brilliant presentation of your very personal story. We can all learn tremendously.
This was painful to read, but nature (human and otherwise) isn’t always kind. Such a brave, hard-hitting, honest piece. Thank you.
Beautiful and devastating. I was just discussing this subject with a close friend– the pain we know we will feel if/when this happens to our own parents. You’ve articulated it with grace and courage. Thank you.
I giggled my lunch break away! I always enjoy humor, especially balanced with all the heavy, shockingly telling lines that your prose seems to gravitate to. This is wonderful!
Perfectly honest and absolutely lovely.
Thank you so much, Hayli!
Terrific piece! I’m really impressed by how you were able to convey the deep fear, and evoke the feeling in this (non-parent) reader. Great job!
Really great writing, and such a universal, relatable story. Great job of infusing the writing — even early on — with a hint of the loss to come. A fine piece!
What a lovely piece, Amanda. You answer the age-old question, “Is it better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?” I enjoyed reading this very much.
So beautiful; thank you!
This is such a beautiful, touching piece of writing. Thank you x
DAMN!!!!! This is a fantastic piece of writing, Rocky. Absolutely fantastic. So glad you’ve shared this with the world!!! Beautiful.
Such beautiful writing this is, Lynn! you give new meaning to the word Survivor. Do keep it up!
I can’t understand how cheesecake on a stick could have failed to make millions. Did you really give it a proper chance?
I suppose that when one does the sort of research that I do (on individuals living in subsistence)and also am the sort of person that I am (cynical, sarcastic, skeptical, etc.), that when I think about communist/Utopian/etc. movements, it becomes easy to dismiss the population at Envision as wanna-be revolutionaries that have neither the skill nor will to ever be impactful. So I have to careful to fight off my instincts, and realize that one only considers only the outcome, and not the journey, then one misses the point (well, at least a part of it). Thus, here’s to the next uncomfortable journey, for which I’m sure that you are now better-equipped than you were prior to this experience.
And thank you for writing something different from the normal stuff everyone writes about. Refreshing
Very resonant…the “changing room” is such an apt setting. I write this as I get ready to surrender to the gray hair tomorrow. I will be thinking of this essay while my old dyed color gets snipped away.
I am a white mother of a biracial adopted daughter..she is ten……there is a black boy at school who regularly uses the term Nigga….her black friends say that its ok to say that..but only if you are black..she asks me what it means and I don’t have an answer for any of it..she asks me if she is black enough to use that word and not get in trouble..she looks half, but she is one quarter and half mexican……I don’t have an answer for that one either, but tell her that I wouldn’t want to use a word that wasn’t ok for everyone to use……these are not the same conversations that other mothers have with their children
Thank you so much for these comments! Words fail me.
I say do what makes you feel good. If it’s a face-lift and lipo-suction, go for it. And I, too, wish I could have been the daughter to take my mother to live with me when she got ill.
this is brilliant work. the kind of thing that makes you want to re-read. precision of language. a literary feast.
Happy birthday. Your piece resounded with me because 4/20 is my wedding anniversary. It was not until after we chose the date (it was between that and the week before which was Friday 13th that year) that we found out about Hitler, Columbine and other connections. We got married April 20, 2001 on the 17th floor of a building with a panoramic view of our beloved NYC skyline. Looking north we could see the Chrysler building and the Empire State. Looking south, we could see the Twin Towers. For us, NYers, the significance of April 20 that year was obliterated five months later on September 11. I am grateful that I have not only my anniversary to remember on that day, but also a memory of that intact skyline, on a day that I get to remember for reasons other than hate and fear.
beautiful, sad, seamless
Wow, what an incredible journey by incredible people with incredible faith. Thank you so very much for sharing!!!
Your story made me laugh out loud. I was honestly think your character was going to confess to being gay and the you switch it on me! I love how owning a motorcycle is something to worry about!
three years later: thanks for taking the time to read my work and the comment. I’m very new to this.
John. The Miss Helen was my grandfather’s boat. He built and skippered it out of Westport Wa. I have a few pics to send to you when I can get a good email from you.
There’s a reason it’s called faith and not fact. I feel as you do about being at one with the Universe in nature. This is a beautifully written piece, Leslie. I’m sorry you still carry the pain of your religious disagreement with your father. There are as many paths to “God” as there are people on the planet and He really doesn’t care which one you take. Passing under the shade of a tall pine or majestic oak works for me.
Disagree. And that’s why Christians have such a bad rap. Scripture, which is God’s Word, which is God’s will,
specifically, as Jesus stated: … tells us there is only ONE way to the Father, and that is through Him, the son.
Like it or not. It’s not a smorgasbord of pick and choose. But, again, your choice.
Wow. Thanks for sharing your journey Peter… And your wife is a guardian angel. Bless you both
Lynn – you give me strength in sharing my own story someday. You write beautifully…
Have you ever heard of Vipassana meditation? Teacher S.N. Goenka himself had incurable migrane headaches. This meditation practice cured him of those completely… Read a bit about him here: http://bit.ly/1JLQ9DE
Very useful article for writers who’ve “been around awhile” and also for my students…may I copy and use as a handout?
Okay with me 🙂
Maggie, you are a beautiful writer. You wove these two stories together with such a deft touch, like the weaving of fine lace. I was very moved by this piece. Lovely work.
Thank you for your kind comment.
Lovely.
Thank you for reading. 🙂
Really, really too bad you eschew poetry — as some things can be poetically condensed easier and more potently than an essay. And I did not KNOW that (no poetry) until after I sent one for submission. After all, your designation of “creative nonfiction” does cover poetry. In the future, be more concise, please. Just add “No poetry” to your submissions listings.
Saves everyone the rejection.
I guess I don’t get it. I don’t see the “need” for, nor understand the trauma. It was a thing that happened. I was molested by an uncle when I was eleven. So what? All it did was jump start my interest in my sexuality, but — I live, I breathe. No problem. Had an affair with a married woman. Now, a celibate gay. So what? I’m retired. Still love sex, always have, always will — but not without love, thank you. A real boy scout. And it’s been years and years since I’ve been with anyone.
So what? You can’t have what you never meet. Str8 or gay. (And I’m a very str8 type guy; and a serious Christian.) Unless you want to settle for far, far less, like so many do. Sorry, sex is a gift and a treasure, to be used wisely, cherished — not given out like tossed salad. But, to each their own.
(Nor do I get the “Just sayin'” — You already said it.)
It’s interesting how we all experience things differently.
One of the main reasons to write is to touch someone enough that they start a conversation from the monologue that was the story.
Indeed, not to disparage nor dismiss your reactions to what happened. We are wired differently. Maybe if I hadn’t been beaten half to death by own father, and been raised calmly and in a loving environment it might have affected me differently. And it was a favorite uncle, not a stranger; I didn’t like it, and he stopped, didn’t force the issue. But yeah, it raised questions. But I never felt it was a problem. Only what my father and stepmother did/didn’t do kept me in therapy for years and years after. The uncle was just a bump in the road. What was even worse was my great love affair — a woman who introduced me to the occult and weird spiritualism/spiritual seeking. Which left me an emotional wreck a full thirty years after, even after I rebecame a Christian. Things like the Amityville Horror do exist; only I had just a mild dose… and a little can go a very long way — like your encounter, I suppose. But have no desire to write about it.
Well-written, and heart-touching. But alas,I cannot comprehend, all that intelligence, all that learning… which willfully leads to a dead end. Would think at the minimum you might have read the scriptures and sought out the truth for yourself. But that is your choice. And when you reach the final gate, there is no turning back to do it over, or make a different choice. Eternity is a long, long time. But that is our destiny: all the choices of free will dropped in our laps to be dealt with. Only once done, it’s done. Sifting through the ashes for what?
I’ve been tinkering with a piece that just didn’t feel right. An editor asked to read it, but I never sent it to her because it was “an echo of something I already did, but haven’t gotten out of my system yet.” Bingo. You put into words my struggle the past few weeks. Thank you! Now I can move on.
Great! And good luck…
Whoa, Leslie. What a wonderful piece. Love.
Your writing always touches me and I’m grateful for every piece that Rosemary shares with me. You know intimately something very few wish to consider. Thank you for putting words to your wisdom.
Thank you for reaching out. <3 I appreciate your words.
This is a story I’ve been following for a few years and I’m so proud of you, Rick, for your courage and wisdom and humility. The story is beautifully written and I hope it will be widely distributed so other wounded kids can benefit from your restraint and honesty. Congratulations!!!!
Rick this must be a wonderful release for you, thank you for sharing it with us. And hats of too your writing, hard to believe that it was only a few years ago you you did your first workshop, Bravo…
PLEASE NOTE: I’ve invited the bishop of Sault Set. Marie, who acted like a stereotypical used car salesman, no offence to any used car sales people, when I first approached him about my assault.
I was eventually able to forgive the priest but this bishop still needs to ask for forgiveness.
I doubt he ever will ( is arrogance one of the 7 deadly sins?).
He probably won’t comment but he may troll them.
Just sayin’
Beautifully written and insightful. I want to go to there now!
Lively descriptions combined with thoughtful observations. An excellent and engaging essay that describes the experience of venturing into the unknown ,the unexpected and even the uncomfortable. Highly recommended!
This is a powerful story, and the writer tells it bravely, digging deep and not pulling punches. It can’t have been an easy memoir to write, nor to share. How heartbreaking, the innocence too soon lost and the devastating personal consequences, yet there’s also, ultimately, understanding and redemption here. The past can’t be reversed or entirely forgotten, as that gut-wrenching last line shows, but time returned to him determination, clarity, hope. This will resonate with many readers. Beautifully written.
This essay/story touches all its topics beautifully, delicately, straightforwardly, with an enormous heart, and it makes all the run-of-the-mill confessionals pale by comparison. Its author is just who I’ve been looking for – the poet of 30something creative women who did not do all the conventional things. Bonus, she handles each sentence like it’s wrought gold. Thank you for this wonderful work.
Maggie, this was an elegantly crafted piece that I loved as an analytic reader, and now again as a leisure reader. Beautiful work!
Thanks so much, Pamela! 🙂
Great piece! I want to read more from this author!
A poignant story told in such a compelling way – no histrionics, none on
the anger I felt simmering in myself as I read it. Best of all, I
really appreciated the undercurrents and layers of personal redemption
and transformation; the hard-won depths of self-knowledge and peace
really shine through in the tone. Lovely – I look forward to more from
this author.
I love how JT weaves the story of vastly different scenes of death – movies in a graveyard with that of her own very close, heartbreaking experience with death. Her talent at painting a descriptive picture made it feel like I was watching Casablanca in the cemetery and sipping on cheap wine with her. It’s touching, well written prose.
I did not have the honor of reading this piece when it was a submission–so it was a thrill to read it now in print. Thank you Jocelyn, for such a unique, evocative piece.
Enjoyed your writing.
“We all should be as upset as he is. ” Thank you for making this brave statement. I wonder sometimes who are the crazy ones – people who don’t vocalize their feelings about how the world is falling apart around us, or those that do. Thanks for painting this picture that really resonated with me.
Thank you so much for sharing your family’s story, Donna.
“Up ahead, I see her, sitting on the edge of the shore, arms and legs still stretching toward the ocean. Waves lick her toes. Wind blows her long hair away from her face. She looks like a sandpiper about to lift off into the sky.” Fantastic lines. I’m a sucker for a lyric piece about a daughter, and this one is absolutely beautiful. Nicely done.
Thank you, Tim. I love hearing which lines affected people. Hearing this is like getting a gift.
Add my voice to the chorus of praise, Jayne. I recall this piece as a reader, as many aspects reminded me of my checkered but utterly committed relationship with my own mother. Each image feels important in this essay, and I love the HUMAN landscape of it all, broken but beautiful. As so many others say below, this is emotive but spare, vivid writing that is, IMO, perfectly honed. Beautiful, heartbreaking piece.
I love that the positive messaging spread from just you and your daughter to her siblings, too. How beautiful.
Jocelyn, I enjoyed this piece so much. You’ve masterfully woven these many threads together and the resultant image is beautiful. I’m a horsewoman, too. I never get over the honor of this amazing creature allowing me to climb onto his back and then carrying me as I ask. Your father is such a rich and interesting character. Thank you for sharing this part of his story, and yours.
This was great, I think so many people can relate to this…..the pain of letting go of someone and the double pain of imagining the new person that they are with (or not even imagining, but actually seeing it…..) Wonderful writing 🙂
Thank you so much for reading and connecting!
This piece moved me very much. Bless you for being such a smart, creative mom. Sending you and your family my best wishes.
This piece just reached into my chest and yanked out my heart. How beautifully you have woven together all these threads. Lovely work. My very best to you, Stacey.
Beautifully written, great pace, tender and honest.
Moving and beautifully crafted. You always inspire me, Wendy. “…an old Polaroid come to life.” That is one memorable phrase.
Thank you!
What an interesting Polaroid of a moment in time. There is some wonderful texture in this piece through your use of the senses, and you capture a very real sense of movement. I could feel the train rocking on the tracks.
Thank you for this glimpse on your father. Of interest was your feeling that you did not know him, because I felt I understood him quite well upon reading this piece. But then, clearly he was an introvert and so am I. I was charmed by his dedication to his art and his work ethic. The camel coat he made you — how happy it must have made him to see how you loved it. I also enjoyed the way you wove the information about tailoring throughout the essay. This is a great piece of writing and I enjoyed it very much.
Many thanks, Jayne. I suppose one of the benefits (or sorrows) of getting older is a growing appreciation of the complexities of other people. So many things make sense in retrospect. I’m glad you enjoyed this piece. Thanks for reading!
Retrospect… Yes. I’m learning this myself.
🙂 Maybe we’re all getting wiser….
God, I hope so. Or this getting older business would really suck.
Wendy, this is so beautiful. I felt myself floating on the gentle waves of your remarkable voice being warmed by the sun’s rays. I could have stayed there forever. Lovely, lovely, lovely.
Thanks so much. And thanks to everyone for such wonderful comments. As a writer, the best compliment is hearing that someone found beauty in the words you wrote down. Truly. Thank you.
You have a gift, really
I too, love sand dollars. This essay is brilliant!
Beautiful and poignant. Thank you for sharing!
Kevin, this is great. Illuminating. I am learning so much from you. Thank you!
As someone with a parent who also was an accomplished, European seamstress, this piece wholly resonated with me–the connection of craft and style to the structure of a parent’s personality and outlook. This is a memorable one for me.
Thanks Pamela. I wish I’d inherited some of my dad’s talent with a needle, but I’m useless in that department. I still appreciate a good suit, though!
I was sadly lacking in this department as well. Perhaps that sort of finesse skips a generation?
I loved this piece when I read it for our journal, and I love it once again upon re-reading today. A beautiful, grounded yet lyrical essay that has been one of my favorite reads for HM.
Wow. Thank you Pamela, and everyone else, for your sweet sentiments about this essay. Your thoughtful remarks are deeply, deeply appreciated.
Memories are what remain after the tide changes. Beautifully said. An elegant, nostalgic, hopeful essay.
Gorgeous, Wendy.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts and feelings. David LeBlanc
Good stuff…
love this piece 🙂 xo
Perfection.
Enjoyed your piece — nice descriptions that really evoked the era. Sense of foreboding built up until I finally realized why. Well done!
Beautifully written, gorgeous essay. Love your writing. The willingness to start over is so powerful.
Eileen, this is a beautiful, delicious biography. Congratulations
Thanks so much, Marlena. Glad you enjoyed it.
This is a beautiful essay, Wendy, it wasn’t long before I found myself feeling like I was eavesdropping, walking just a few steps behind you on the beach. I applaud the work you must have done to be able to get to a place of such generosity and kindness when it comes to describing what you see when you see your ex-husband on the beach during a visit with his daughter, many could not describe a moment as such with the balance and solid ground you’ve written from. Well done, Wendy.
Your
sand dollar essay is really lovely! I love the details! Makes me feel
like I am there, sitting in the sand watching them.
Sorry, spoke too soon. Can’t delete my comments. They show up as Guest now.
Great piece.
The article is wonderful.
The image credit, however, is completely wrong. Because I shot that picture. 🙂
https://www.flickr.com/photos/bellzatk/6512625327/
Guest – yes indeed; we’re referring to the story image in the image credit line, the one of the city from the mountain (We don’t put image credit in caption because we don’t want to take away from story). But nice author photo! 🙂
Thanks HipMag! Besides being a great writer, she’s an all around lovely person, and so fun to photograph.
I just love, love this essay Aileen! Brava!
Thank you, Cathy. I enjoyed writing this piece. It had been on my mind for a long time, so I was happy to find a structure that worked. All the best!
Dear All thanks for the feedback and support, much appreciated! Dale
Jayne, words can not express how I felt after reading this, all I can say is I feel your pain, I went through almost the same thing with my Mom, and couldnt get to her in time, none of us know why these things take place, this really hit home for me….
It took me a long time to gain enough clarity to write about this and I hoped others would find a little bit of themselves in my story. Thank you.
Great job with this, Joanne. Despite the particular details of your story, it hints at some universal aspects of every mother daughter relationship. Can’t wait to read the whole memoir!
I love it, good job Raz
Oh man dude.. Your girlfriend would be PISSED to know about Sarah!
What a wonderful interview. Thank you so much! I’m off to buy the book right now.
Great bait-and-switch. Loved this line, too: “They’re divorced, but together in the sense that they never allow their kids to pick up a check.”
I just adore and love this essay. I read it awhile back as a reader for Hippo and I’ve just never forgotten it. We are so lucky to be able to publish it!
Love, love, love, George! Thank you for articulating so many things I’ve always wanted to…
Thanks for sharing, George. As someone who’s trying to quit (and who wishes desperately that both of his parents would), I get it all too well.
Jayne–really beautiful piece. Thank you so much for sharing it.
Thank you, Ryan.
If you are willing to admit this, I wonder what other secrets you have to tell? I can’t wait to read them!!!
What a great tribute to you and your Mother……
Thank you, Pat.
How can I commend this piece other than to say that I didn’t read it, I lived it. My heart tightened, my throat constricted, I forgot to breath, and I remembered.
I can’t possibly convey to you how moved I am by your response. Thank you.
You had me from the start, Jody, and held me all the way to the end. Great opener, great descriptions with a tinge of self-deprecation all the way through, too. I enjoyed the read. I did a little online dating recently, but it was nothing like this. No heat, all serious get-to-know you earnestness. I also quit pretty quickly when I realized I didn’t want to put forth the energy required for face-to-face. Online and face-to-face–so different, in my experience and apparently in yours.
Yes! Online dating IS so much less work because…well, maybe, just maybe because we’re only called upon to use our brains and not the rest of our bodies. Or maybe because fantasy is always easier than reality. I appreciate your kind words!
This is wonderful, Alex. It has such heart. I could see every scene as if in a movie with a voice over. Your transitions were seamless and that’s a tough thing to pull off. Really great work and a very enjoyable read.
I’ve been working with a student in the Writing Center who is writing an argument paper on why online dating is a bad idea; her premise is that online “heat” doesn’t always translate to face-to-face “heat.” Great essay.
Oh, heat is real. Very real. Thanks, Elizabeth!
Excellent essay, Jody! I really enjoyed reading it. I loved “bring the heat” – hilarious! You are way better off with Jon!
Thanks, Hayley. Your essay, “Lining Up To Be a Hot Lunch,” was hysterical, by the way! If I knew how to hot link to it in these comment boxes, I would.
What a great read! Truly enjoyed how you captured the waves of hope and doubt, shock and despair. Well done!! I look forward to reading more from you.
Thank you so much, Dr. Giddens!
Love it Jody! My mother Marilyn sent it my way in California. Amanda/aka Mandy K. You’re an amazing writer.
How thoughtful. Thank-you! I hope things are well in sunny CA.
It’s difficult to type this with tears in my eyes, wobbly fingers and the love I have for Jayne Martin for sharing this exquisite, personal, piece of her heart. Incredible. Brava!
“Thank you” seems so inadequate. Your response to the piece means the world to me.
I really enjoyed your essay, George. My grandfather smoked Marlboro’s every day of my life until he died, no accident that he loved that brand since he was a huge John Wayne fan. My grandmother chose Winstons, the working woman’s ciggs, and my mother stuck with Vantage. My father must have smoked my mother’s brand, though he quit when I was in 7th grade and I can’t remember him ever smoking. When I reach back into memories from my childhood, I see beanbag ashtrays and smell the nicotine and peppermint that wafted out of my mother’s purse when I dug around for spare change. My grandmother used to fall asleep in her chair with her cigg in her hand while my sister and I laid on the carpet in front of the TV, propping ourselves up on elbows, and watched late night episodes of the Twilight Zone. We worried over her ash but never bothered to catch it. No one in my family smokes these days. Thanks for bringing me back to the days of my youth–cigarettes can’t be all bad, tied up as they are with the memories of people that we love.
Congratulations on your first published piece, Philip. When I was in high school, I wish I’d known that boys felt the same insecurities as we girls did. This is a wonderful piece. You’ve captured and expressed all the feelings so well and the inner dialogue is spot. Good job!
Thank you very much, Jayne. I’m glad you enjoyed reading it, and I appreciate your thoughtful comments.
The pacing of this piece had my heart pounding. You created a story in Technicolor and 3D. A thrilling ride for the reader, not so much for this young girl who could have so easily been me at that age. Great read, Debbie!
Jenny, this is a total delight from beginning to end. You captured these characters so beautifully in their dialogue, and made me hungry along the way. I would love to meet your Miss Ellie. Thank you for a great read. 🙂
Ryan, this is so beautiful. I so hope you and Sarah have managed to keep your glow.
Thanks, Jayne!
Good God, that’s powerful writing and courageous too. I feel like I need someone to put their arms around me right now and I am not sure if it’s the mother or the child side of me that needs to be held.
What a lovely compliment, Elizabeth. It means so much to me to receive such a response to this piece. Thank you
I love this: “…some of us have stumbled into old age accidentally; we are the ones
surprised by our condition every morning staring in our mirror, while
others were always headed there.” Like you, I am one of the stumblers. A delightful read, Doug.
Awesome read! Reminds me of a night from my teenage years haha. It’s very nice to finally see your work teach; thank you for all the help you’ve given me at Tunxis and never stop writing. Can’t wait to read about your teenage years.
Fine writing, Jayne.
Thank you, Nancy.
I could envision every scene. Such a beautifully-written piece and a delightful read. I transformed from a city girl to a country girl in 1993 and have never looked back. And yes, there is nothing quite so soul-wrenching as the sound of the calves being taken from their mothers.
What a fun piece. You set a scene that was easy to imagine and your dialogue captured each character really well.
Hey, you’ve gotta take some chances in life. I don’t like to fly either, but I don’t hesitate to jump onto the back of a 1500-pound horse that could buck me off and stomp me into the ground if he wanted to. So good for you, Tyler. And your mom sounds pretty cool, too.
So beautifully written. The piece is a interesting combination of watching someone you love slowly pass away and the comparison of how badly this region is treated to denying someone’s obvious signs of abuse. Very well done. You are an amazing writer.
Thank you so much! This means more to me than you know.
Adriana
She makes life sound precious, but not beautiful
e r
That was really sad …. but beautifully crafted
Thank you, Lady M x.
The artistry of this piece is amazing! Thanks for the lovely read.
Thank you so much, Jody. That means a lot to me coming from a teacher of the creative non-fiction genre.
This is so raw and honest. Love how you’ve structured the piece to tell the story. I was immediately captivated and held by your tale till the end. All-too-familiar material written with a wonderfully unique touch. My “stalking days” were pre-Internet, but all the same feelings came up for me. Loved this, Amanda. Bravo!
Thank you so much, Jayne! For reading and for sharing these thoughts.
You might considered submitting this piece to Elle Magazine. It’s just the type of story they publish, only yours is better than most.
Evocative writing as always, Jayne. Thinking of you.
Thank you, Ayesha. So good to hear from you. I think of you often and hope you and your family are well.
George, this is wonderful. I loved how you’ve woven bits from history and literature through this piece. I could smell the lighter fluid and recall it spilling onto my fingers when I would refill whatever fashion-forward lighter I was carrying at the time. My mother smoked Pall Malls. Then Tareytons. There was no surgeon general to bum us out back then and as a teenager, I was free to smoke around the house. I believe I was 16 when I was given a carton of Spring in my Christmas stocking. No shit.
I never became a heavy smoker because whenever I would get up to even three or four a day, I would always get a cold. Finally, at 30, I lit a cigarette and got hit with a cold within minutes. It was total aversion therapy. I’ve never been able to stand the smell since then. Thank you for this most enjoyable read.
Jody, I totally get this. I’ve done it so many times, not on the Internet because most of my “dating” was before that time, but creating imaginary relationships with men who were emotionally unavailable. This piece zipped along with impeccable pacing and held me from word one. A most enjoyable read. Congrats on finally finding “the one.” I never did.
Thanks for reading, Jayne. Your comments mean a lot to me.
Beautiful, heartfelt, wonderfully crafted. I was by your side throughout this journey.
Thank you, Lori.
Thoroughly enjoyed reading this. The essay communicated so well the attractions and complications of living in the French countryside, as well as the charm of les vaches. I thought for sure that the narrator would save the cows and that a resumption of harmonious relations would follow. Ah well, no such redemption. Though it makes the story all the more real, and wry.
How beautiful this is, Jayne. For all of us and our mothers whom we miss dearly! Thank you. CX Donna
Thank you, Donna.
This is a brilliantly crafted, painfully emotional rumination on the power of loss. Difficult to read, yet beautiful and memorable. Thank you, Jayne, for reminding us of the enduring significance of our relationships with our mothers.
Thank you, Mike. Your response to the piece means a lot to me.
Well done. Thank you for sharing this!
Thank you, Kenny.
Heartfelt story that captures the emotion and era through a physical and mental race against time. Very poignant piece.
Thank you, Lauren. Feels good to get this one out of my body after carrying it around for 40 years.
You made me cry, especially with that last line. My mother died at 67. I do feel lucky to have had her for that long.
67 is still way too young. But really, is there any good time to lose our moms? Thank you for reading, Gay.
You bared your soul with great poignancy in this piece, Jayne, and honored us all by sharing it.
Bless you, my friend. Thank you for all your support and encouragement.
Beautiful work, Jayne. The death of a parent is difficult at any age and even more so for a teenager. Thanks for sharing this.
Thank you, S.A. I so appreciate the kind words and support.
This is heart breaking and beautiful. I love your writing, and it is stunning in its complexity, context and content. Really a lovely memoir, Jayne!
Thank you, Linda. Finally getting this story on the page has lifted a heavy weight from my heart. I think my mom would approve.
Thank you so much Charles (+ Ann!).
Amazing writing. Absolutely beautiful.
Thank you so much, Annie.
A beautiful piece, Jayne.
Thank you, my friend.
Jayne, there are so many little details in here that made this piece stand out to me, but that one that struck me hardest was the notion that you didn’t get the chance at 19 to be the ‘selfish, ungrateful’ child. And by virtue of losing your mother, you would never get that chance. Part of growing up is necessarily and purposefully separating yourself from your parent and by far, the easiest way to do that it to temporarily blind yourself to everything good about that parent. To indulge in the practice of temporary selfishness and ungratefulness. As sad as the loss of your mother was (and the sadness all these years later still comes through loud and clear), the loss of your 19 year old self’s right to practice that selfishness as a rite of passage comes through as well. My heart aches for that still young child who needed her mother. Lovely work, Jayne.
Thank you, Dina. It took me 40 years to make peace with that time and be able to write about it, and was very cathartic when I finally did. I so appreciate your kind words.
This is brave, and brilliant.
Just got round to reading this Dina.
It is a beautiful account of such a difficult and painful realisation. X
Thank you Nichola. I think we all have that realization at one point or another, whatever the circumstances may be. It’s probably one of the hardest things about grown up.
Wow. Just beautiful. Thank you for sharing this.
Wonderful choices. Congratulations to all.
Lovely snippets…
My wife and I got the NORO virus in Tulum for our whole honeymoon. Tropical places are dangerous. I suggest Alaska for all honeymoons and anniversaries.
Hahahaha!! Alaska. I second that, Frank. I didn’t include in the essay that I was violently ill for two days because of something that I ate or drank. Damn Montezuma!! I just think that vomit isn’t very conducive to honeymooning.
Enjoyed reading your essay!
Your skill with words to express emotion is beautiful.
Sue, thanks so much for your comment and for taking time to read the story.
Thanks for sharing this Prof. Carmack. It was a great read! I can definitely see your technique, voice, and incorporating the “threes.” I’ll be sharing with my mother.
Excellent! Love it. We are all…..
Elane, you really know how to paint a picture for your readers! I feel sorry for the new bride. She has created a life of silent torment for herself. I want to know why! I realize that’s not the important detail here, but you left me wanting more. The sign of an excellent writer my friend!
Hi, Diane-
Thank you for the generous comments! Trust me when I say that I feel sorry for my ridiculous young self too, but I really had no business getting married at that age. I would love to know how so many of my friends–you included–were able to navigate the changes in maturity so that you have stayed married to your first love. I’ve thought of doing a survey, so I’ve got to get on it! You’re on my list. 😀
Another intriguing story Elane! Was captivated from the start! The description of the scenery and location were vivid, and really helped paint the canvas for the story.
I felt sympathy for the woman for not being able to marry the man she loved, but also felt the husband was not to blame for not being the man she needed him to be.
At the end when her sickness vanished and she realized how the trip was going to end, it had me looking for a 2nd chapter so I could find out too!
Hi, Alice-
You are completely right that that poor guy was really blameless. It’s difficult to own how little I knew about maintaining a successful relationship. And, boy, did I think I knew it ALL! I’ve been thinking of that 2nd chapter too, and you’ve given me a nice kick in the pants to actually write the thing. Thank you!
I know those streets you talk about, the dried up hills that are so close by. Walking out the front door and we could almost reach up and touch the Peak, the field full if daisies always a constant reminder if times past, I am now close to 50 and I too played in the field of daisies, stickers from tumbbleeeds all up in my socks, we climbed the hill aways trying to reach the top. Some of us did and some , well we just couldn’t make it .Not because we didn’t want to but because the illnesses that were inside..
Know how the character feels. Thanks.
Hi, Carroll-
Well, you’re welcome, but it’s a terrible feeling, huh?
wow. Thank you for writing this. I have felt alone with that emotion.
Wow. I miss Gar. Never knew him, except through this story. Gar sounds electric and inspirational. I had my first male teacher in grade four. It was Mr. Ibbott’s first year of teaching. I must have sensed that, so I gave him such a hard time, by being rambunctious in class. By the end of Mr. Ibbott’s first month teaching, he had enough of my shenanigans and I will never forget being lifted up, against the cloakroom wall, by my shirt and having my fourth grade teacher scream into my face. I believe, I became a quiet, hard-working student immediately,.after that. I put Mr. Ibbott to the test and gave him a challenge. In return, he taught me, that I needed to respect him, whether I wanted to or not. Years later, Mr. Ibbott became Principal of my elementary school. And I have since, never needed to put another teacher to the test, quite like that again.
I just love this essay, Kirsten. So funny and poignant. You’ve got talent for sure!
Such a beautiful, beautiful essay. Your writing is superb Joanne! Wow.
Cathy, thanks for taking time to read my essay and to comment. I really appreciate it.
Lovely rhythm and threading of the sadness throughout. Thank you.
This story breaks my heart. Your strength to not only persevere, but rise above your circumstances by sharing your story with such honesty and vividness inspires me. Your beautiful and powerful writing humbles me.
Blown away by the creative form you used to tell the story, the way you used form. I agree with Lisie…the reversal of expectations really caught me. Love it.
I am struck by the image of the squirrel repeatedly hurling itself into the air and then the next line: “What else to do with pain?” A metaphor, surely.
Wonderful writing. Clear and direct with space for the reader to have their own emotional experience, rather than being told how to feel.
Really well-paced. I felt like you were writing this piece the way your husband cooks — by feel. The flow was perfection. A very enjoyable read.
I love how, even writing as an adult, you were able to tell this story through the narrative of your 4th grade voice. I can’t recall a single teacher who made any impression on me. You’re very fortunate. It’s a wonderful piece.
A beautiful piece!
Krista, I heard your voice throughout this piece as if I was sitting next to you as you spoke these words. It’s wonderfully good writing.
Wonderful, Krista, I feel I know your husband much better, and your relationship together sounds so supportive and loving. Bravo
I feel that that little girl. I’ve been that little girl. Not exactly in the same way, but dysfunctional families take many forms and the weight put on the shoulders of young ones not equipped to understand or carry such weight can stay with us for life. Lovely work, Dina.
Thank you, Jayne. It wasn’t until I was much, much older that I understood the power of that particular time and how much sway it held over me. To tell the truth, I don’t know if even as a middle aged adult I could tell you if I truly understand it. But I’ve been writing about it for decades. This was the penultimate piece in releasing the writing demons. I hope!
Marion Roach gave me a wonderful piece of advice about memoir: “Write the version you can live with.” It helped me tremendously in my decades-long struggle to understand the events of the day my mother died because, of course, we can never fully remember or fully understand. We do the best we can with the information and understanding that we have and that’s how we make peace with it.
Good advice, Jayne. I had a memoir professor in college who gave me the one piece of advice that I always try to follow. She advised us to “write the word you need to write”. The example she used to clarify her point was the word ‘sh*t.”, meaning that sometimes coming up with gentle easy ways to say things just confuses what you’re trying to say. Finding the balance between writing the (subjective) truth and writing the version you can live with can be a tightrope at times. When you reach the other side however, it’s totally worth it.
I enjoyed the humor in this piece. The pacing spoke volumes about your interior life at that time. You were right to take the dog back. Maybe you’re a cat person.
What a tale. I must admit I felt sorry for the poor bastard — until he wouldn’t kill the cockroach. Yep. That’s a deal-breaker. Although, I’m perfectly capable of killing or relocating any such vile creature, the fact that a man would go screaming to the bathroom over such a thing would have me wondering what he’d do if we were in real danger. I’m glad you got your happy ending, Elane.
Hi, Jayne-
Hahaha!! I’m so sorry that it took this long to reply (I could not get my responses to post to save my life!), but I laughed so loud that I woke my sleeping husband, who did not appreciate my mirth one bit. Now, you remind me of my mother who thought that I was completely lame for not being able to kill a silly roach. She would crunch the things with her bare foot. Gaaaackkkk. Unfortunately, you are right that the roach incident was indicative of future responses to danger. We are both mighty fortunate that “we” didn’t work out.
You took a leap of faith. Good for you. I moved to L.A. with my boyfriend of just a couple of months back in the 70s. When you’re young is the time to do such things. Wishing you all the best.
So beautiful. So lyrical. The imagery is perfection. And the courage with which you share intimate details is amazing. Brava!
Hi, Heather- Well, stop that! (Except the Italian. I’ll take Italian praise any time.) I had not considered the idea of having “courage” in sharing intimate details until I read your post. That assessment means a lot to me. It’s dang hard to put ourselves out there as writers, especially writers of nonfiction. The truth is that I am pretty crappy sometimes, like I’m certain everyone is. I feel much less alone to know that other people screw up too; plus I’m relieved that my pursuit of perfection is a waste of energy that I can let go.
And you wrote about it wonderfully. I experience this all the time on the roads here in my rural neighborhood and it always saddens me.
This is beautifully written. Although, the story of me and my own mother is different, so much of the emotion is the same. The desire to understand who our mother is or was in order to understand who we are is universal. But oh — such a complicated relationship. Thank you for sharing your story.
Jayne, thanks for your kind words, and for sharing how the story connected for you. That means a lot.
Dina, thank you so much for reading the piece and taking time to share your thoughts. I really appreciate it.
Lynn, your incredibly beautiful writing stays with me…the care you took with language, your stayintg in the moment as you took us on your journey toward hope despite everything. Thank you for enlarging my world, and for telling your story. It’s important and I am glad you are in the world, writing.
My heart aches for all you have suffered. The mountains are one of Gods precious gifts to us, so glad they are helping you.
You never cease to amaze me! Talent at every turn! Loved the essay! It is no wonder that our kids learned so much from their favorite teacher! You put your heart into everything that you do! ❤️
Ohhhhhh, Penny! You are always so kind. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate just the fact that you read my piece, and the generous comments are a major bonus. I’m so sorry that you are a Florida girl because I miss you up here, but you can seriously keep your gargantuan bugs!!
Thank you for sharing your story and your strength, your courage is truly inspiring. Best wishes for a very good year ahead.
Wow! I am in awe of your writing once again!! Love love love it… I feel bad for the lady for not marrying her true love first…
True about not marrying the “true love” first, Rhonda. A whole lot of agony could have been avoided if I’d done that.
Right! The same goes for me….lol. I sure love your writing and cannot wait until our project is done (hint hint)…lol.
This is incredibly haunting, and hopeful, too. Thank you for this, Lynn.
Mike, thank you. My writing wouldn’t exist in the world without you, without your creation, Lighthouse Writers Workshop. So thank YOU.
Nice work, buddy.
Cheers John.
Breathtaking. Krista has a special quality as a writer. Relentlessly observant, purpose-seeking with a purity of insight, she has the uncharacteristic quality of a writer to seperate inner space fron outer space. With an almost journalistic restraint, purveying the world’s invisible magic as it exists naturally. Humble and decadently beautiful. What a talented lady!
xvxoo L
It was my sophomore year in high school, I think, when I walked into my
art class and saw a man seated behind not a desk but a podium. Mr.
Collins had a beard and wore blue jeans. Of course, we had to complete
the required art projects to satisfy the powers that were, but we were
also allowed to create on our own. Very soon it became obvious that Mr.
Collins didn’t care if you wanted to sleep in the back of the room.
However, you got the grade you deserved. He didn’t push it.
But what
was different about this teacher is that he would very often bring up
certain topics of art and invite anyone who was interested to gather
around up front and participate in the discussion. I learned so much
from that man, not necessarily the ‘how’, but the ‘why’.
I had a lot
of teachers throughout my schooling, but Mr. Collins is the one I
remember most fondly. He made a difference in how I thought about art,
and that’s something I’ve carried with me ever since.
I’m enjoying reading you guys’ teachers stories much more than my own. Keep ’em coming!
I am so sorry you have suffered this way, and amazed at what you turn it into- gorgeous writing.
My old man was a teacher for years. For decades, even. And he was the very opposite of a hippie: a button-down, short-haired, tweed-wearing middle school English teacher. But he energized his classroom with humor, with puns, with puppets. He didn’t do it to be a better teacher, he did it because that’s just who he was, and who he happened to be was a better teacher. It was unforced, organic. He easily crossed that great divide from “a living” to “a vocation.” Here’s to great teachers everywhere, living, dead, and still to come.
Love that. Here’s to your pops.
Cheers!
Exquisite writing, Elane! Then again, all your works are
fantastic. You are truly a gifted writer, and I’ll be a fan forever.
As you know, that kind of praise coming from you makes my heart pop. 😀
Elane, this is absolutely a wonderful story! Even though the ending left the reader to guess what could have happened, I kept thinking, “Okay, she’s gonna ditch this dude and go get the love of her life.” Stephen is correct in that you painted a very vivid picture throughout the story, especially the cockroach (gross.) Yes, she did need a man who would kill those suckers for her..I think it should be a requirement. As always, I am in awe of your writing!
I wonder how many people DO agree with us that there has to be one person in the relationship brave enough to dispatch the nasty things like cockroaches, other assorted bugs, snakes, mice (<>), mean cashiers, etc. There can be a balance so that each partner takes care of the things that the other person can’t. That doesn’t seem too much to expect, does it?
No, not too much to expect as long as the partner that takes on the nasty things does not stop doing them. I can’t be having roaches and spiders, oh my!
Everyone (married or unmarried) should read this clever and colorful story. Elane paints a very vivid picture of the event (the honeymoon with her former husband), describing scenes and emotions that resonate powerfully for all of us.
Beautifully precise, visceral language. I am always in awe by your writing and your story and your kick-ass survival skills. You are a warrior, Lynn. And thank God you are brave enough to tell the world your story. Brava!
It’s nice that *you* knew how the trip would end, but now *I* want to know how the trip ended! Lovely, Elaine. Absolutely lovely.
I think the point is that we aren’t meant to know. The best writers leave their readers guessing, hungering, panting for more of a conclusive ending. I like this ending because I can think of a dozen ways the vacation ended, though none of them positive. That’s the writer in me, I suppose.
Rebekah, that’s an excellent point because there are a million ways this episode could have gone. For example, if I hadn’t been a completely immature harpy, I might have realized what a nice guy I’d married. But, but, but, the roach! Amazing that it’s still a sticking point. Still, I like the idea that there are always multiple paths available, and as storytellers, we don’t always have to pick one for our readers.
Hahaha, Missy! Okay. Here’s the scoop. This poor husband never had a chance. We divorced, and I eventually found and married the “true love” for whom I pined while on honeymoon. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I am very, very good at mistakes.
This is an absolutely beautiful story that speaks to our innermost feelings. How often had we had a relationship fall by the wayside, and we are plagued with regret? This story perfectly captures the ambiguity of lost love and new love that just isn’t working out the way we thought. The details of the sights and sounds really add to the meat of the story. The cockroach detail was especially a turning point of comparison where the character realized she has feelings for her lost love. A detailed and ambiguous ending leaves it open to interpretation for the reader. I very much enjoyed this story.
Hi, Rebekah- Thank you completely for the lovely comments. As Cindy said below, some relationships are “happily lost,” and rightly so. You know that old adage about one door closing so that another can open? So true. 😀
I absolutely know. I just feel like this story just hit home to me because when you lose someone you love, and you had no choice, it just happened – you have to make do with the hand that life deals you. <3
You have reminded to be grateful for previous loves, happily lost, and my current love, who would kill the cockroach with relish if it meant one moment of peace for me.
Cindy-
Hahaha!! That’s hilarious. The thing WAS massive, I admit. But come on! It’s true, though, that we should be most grateful for all our relationships, particularly the “happily lost” ones. 😀
Cindy,
I can confirm that Elane remains panicked by even driving NEAR a Pine forest (where the little critters are known to reside). I can also confirm that I’ve personally (and vigorously) dispatched more than a few of the little devils to the cockroach “happy hunting ground.”
But we’re even, because in all other matters she remains my ROCK and INSPIRATION.
Stephen
Truly beautiful writing, Lynn.
Those teachers! Those teachers that, as you put it, shine, ‘like a sunbeam peeking through the clouds’—it is amazing the space they take up in our memories and brains, even after all these years. My fourth grade teacher played Pink Floyd. It made me feel like a ten year old badass when there was nothing badass about me. I ran into her recently, and 35 years later she knew exactly who I was. I think with teachers like that it works in both directions, their students are etched in their memories just as much as they are on ours. It is a shame Gar’s story ended the way it did, but you got that small beam of light from him, and it was enough to shine through all these years.
Pink Floyd? Now there’s a legendary teacher.
sweet!
Reading this story is even better the second time. I’m at work, getting ready for Monday, so it is a great reminder of what to keep striving for.
Cheers, Rory. Keep fighting the good fight.
Even better the second time, that is for sure!
Beautiful. Thanks for sharing.
Thank you, Elise, and you’re welcome 🙂
Great read. Good job James.
Thanks, Ed. Glad you enjoyed.
How do you like them apples? I feel similarly. 🙂
🙂
Beactiful Dina, you have once again brought back memories; you have a true gift and I thank you for sharing it…
Antigoni, thank you. It makes me happy when other people find the familiar in there. I think it makes it all that much more personal as a reader. Thank you again.
I love this, Dina. Thanks for sharing such a memory.
Mary, thank you so much! I loved your piece in the last issue and am chuffed to bits that I would be included in the semi-finalist round with work like yours. Thanks for reading and taking the time to leave a comment, much appreciated. D
I could almost feel the intensity of the headache as I read this thoughtful, beautifully crafted story. There is pain but there is also great progress. Bravo. Looking forward to reading the entire memoir.
Thank you so much Jennifer for these beautiful compliments and for all of your love and support through the years.
Joanne, I can’t even begin to tell you how much this resonated with me this morning. Having just lost my own grandmother a few weeks ago, I recognized so much of not my relationship, but of my mother’s with her mother in your words. The relief of no longer worrying, the longing for a different relationship, all of it, the waiting…always the eternal wait for change which never comes. Beautiful and resonating. Thank you.
I really liked the structure of this, and the way you held it all together…with a zipper.You can unzip the whole to see the individual components below. Nice.
The fashionability of your Scottie sweater may have been in question, but my enjoyment of your essay most assuredly was not!
There was a lot about your friend Suzanne that I identified with in this piece–but the line that struck me the most was this: “Surely stage-four cancer and an eighteen-year friendship trumped decorum.” You’ve summed up what we should really all be focused on in that one line, on so many different levels. Thanks for making me think about it too.
Incredibly powerful piece.
Thank you, Dina.
I read this with my own son, 15 months, sleeping on my lap. Beautiful story Dame.
Lovely. A moving but honest tribute.
I enjoyed this so much. I just wanted to follow you from age to age and hug you. Like growing up isn’t hard enough. Nordstrom’s is my Harold’s.
This reminds me of the friendship between Ann Patchett and Lucy Grealy that Patchett recounted in “Truth and Beauty.” It matters not how the world sees us, but how we see ourselves and, from that, we create our reality. Thank you for sharing this beautifully rendered story. You were a good friend.
Such a strong, raw, vivid piece of writing. I’m so moved by your ability to share your story with such depth and honesty.
I appreciate you, Jayne. 🙂
This is incredible, Deirdre. I thank you for being a writer. For being the caring person you are.
This is such a powerful, indelible piece. Like Pamela, I can’t stop thinking of it.
Thank you Deirdre
Great details and vivid description, with your use of that specialized construction vocabulary. You got the overall tone of the piece just right.
The link for “A Gun Story” goes to “A Moon Story.” And thank you for this — it’s wonderful and instructive to read your six nominations one after the other.
Liesl, I stumbled across your gem of a work here quite by accident. Your style is so inviting and engaging. Thank you for sharing your writing and your experience of your experience. (incidentally, my sister and I had a fascination with the Amish for a while too – check out the documentary-style show “Breaking Amish”!!)
This essay really packs a wallop. Thanks for sharing it with the world.
Sophie…this is brilliant and as a mother of someone who self injured it brought my understanding to a new level. Gratitude to the moon and back.
Thank you Pamela, that’s very kind.
So many fluid and flowing emotions around mothering and food. I’ve watched my grandmother do it with my mother, my mother with me, myself with my own children. There is some sort of biological reckoning, some jedi like force that encapsulates and entwines itself in the mother/child relationship. You captured that beautifully here. Stocking up and canning the memories, the last moments, the remembrances. Really, truly enjoyable.
Dena, thank you for that very moving consideration of the story.
This is wonderful. Nicely written and peppered with the right amounts of subtle, tongue-in-cheek digs at the powers that be in Mumbai.
Wow! Thank you Pamela.
This piece utterly broke my heart when I read it. It works so quietly up to the powerful climax. Beautiful work, Carolyn.
This was another one that, as a reader, I couldn’t stop thinking about. Not to be flip, but I just kept thinking, “this one is cooked up so well!” Beautiful writing without a shred of preciousness. Congratulations on a wonderful piece, Deidre.
Mary Killian, I could not stop thinking about this piece after I read it. It was wrenching, but still oddly hopeful. It’s a haunting piece weaving in several tropes–quite sophisticated in structure. Great job, and thank you for the real-life story. It has stayed with me.
Many thanks, Pamela. I am humbled by the warmth of your note. I am clean thirteen years and grateful every day to be in a position where telling these stories no longer fills me with shame. I appreciate that you read my essay.
It’s a beautiful piece, Mary. I loved all aspects of your story. As writers it is perhaps our most wrenching, exposed moments that give us our strongest voice. I am shopping a piece about abuse right now. It’s difficult to put these complicated histories out there, but I responded to your vulnerable, compassionate, but flawed woman from the bottom of my heart, so I hope I will engender the same from others. I am so glad to hear that you have transcended those experiences–but remember they are the whole of you, and add to the beauty of your fabric.
I am happy to share my experience, strength and hope. And flattered that you feel compelled to share my work. Good luck with your project. I did request your FB friendship. I hope I wasn’t being too presumptuous. 🙂
Not at all, Mary!
BTW, I shared your story on my FB wall.
Sharon, reading this piece was certainly a trip down Memory Lane! The journey began with high school, where I liked your mother so much that I took two classes of hers. I, too, was extremely self-conscience of my apparel. Oh, the GG ads! I had all but forgotten about those! The scenes of Millsaps and of walking through Belhaven are so vividly descibed. Harold’s was an institution and is greatly missed. Thank you for sharing such a lovely work.
Captivating work. I can visualize every scene from Millsaps to Highland Village. Excited, too, to discover Hippocampus and grateful for your decision to share this!
Angela, this resonated with me in so many ways that if I listed them here they would rival your essay in length. I struggle with my own self perceptions about when it is ‘acceptable’ to identify myself as a writer. I silently question these 17 and 18 year olds who so confidently display business cards with ‘writer’ on them while secretly envying their chutzpah, their confidence, the surety that seems to be built into their generation. Recently on a trip which required me to fill out my occupation in the little, blank space for the first time since having children I filled it in rather than leaving it a looming wound. I wrote ‘writer’. Luckily no one questioned my declaration. For what it’s worth, as I was reading this I wished a pox on the customs official who demanded to know where you had published. I have several words for her. None of them ‘writer’; none of them nice.
Dina, thank you for reading and for your supportive comment. It was certainly a self-revealing experience that helped me clarify my path. Let’s all grab our chutzpah and hang onto it, shall we? It’s not just for kids! Best wishes to you on your own writing journey.
Thank you Maureen. I appreciate the read and the thought.
Beautiful juxtaposition and homage to those things and people that nurture us.
Thank you Linda!
Poignant and powerful. Thanks for the reminder of how much we learn about ourselves from how we care for our mothers. Well done!
Nicely done. I enjoyed this.
The luxury of being allowed to write full time is quickly quashed by the realization that if you spend all your time with ‘butt to chair’ you will discover you have nothing to write about.
Isn’t THAT right! Excellent point.
I love something new about this piece each time I read it. Especially this list:
“How do I throw a party where people have a good time? What is the proper
temperature for gravy? Which is better, Bactine or Neosporin? Which is
more polite, to accept tentatively or back out later? How do I make the
sheets so soft? How do I make friends at 50, 60, 70? Is this miniskirt
too short on me? What do I do if no one falls in love with me? Tell me
how to do this.” And then, “Who was I, and who did I become? How did I adapt over and over? What is
the meaning of those moments of lone euphoria, standing on top of a rock
in the wind somewhere, even during the worst times?”
You always ask the right questions. Really beautiful, Karen.
Oh yes, I get this deeply. I need physical movement as a part of my writing practice. Beautifully written. So glad I got to be part of your experience.
Thank you, Jordan! I can’t imagine that weekend without you in it.
Sharon
You, Eudora Welty, and Harold’s in the same essay, you can’t make it up. Although the last radium girl died in March, you need to know, your words glow in the dark.
Thank you Tom. The doctor who always knows exactly what to say.
This speaks so beautifully to the things we assume, the things we can’t assume, and the reading of signs, literally and figuratively. A wonderful read!
Thank you so much, Allison — I really like your take on the assumptions.
The way these storylines weave together is absolutely expert. And I love your author picture because now I recognize you when I see your work in other places!
So powerful – and I love how you segue into the past, and how we shift our own memories.
Just beautiful – the way you capture the feeling of wanting to be away, but how much this is part of you, is just incredible.
This feels like such a milestone – thank you for the recognition, and I’m pleased to be in such wonderful company!
Congrats!
Love them!
Such a lovely and memorable piece! All the appreciation is well deserved.
Thank you, my beautiful friend Karen.
Just gorgeous. I’ve missed reading your words and the beautiful talent you have of mixing detail with something much, much bigger and more universal.
Thank you for sharing this with me 🙂
Steph M. (Army of darkness member circa 2011)
And I am truly sorry about your father. What a beautiful way you put it; that you wished all of India was mourning with you. I’ve felt like that myself, once or twice, but never quite managed to make my point as succinctly. I think it’s because grief can be such a lonely thing and the person we lost in our eyes deserves the same treatment as the famous dead. It’s the whole, “stop all the clocks” phenomena which we all go through. Thank you again for sharing this.
Thanks Stephanie – I love the ‘stop all the clocks’ comparison – it’s such an incredible thing to see a whole city mourning for one guy, and to have that feeling of ‘wait, what about me?’
You forgot the part where an old friend comes up and “hip checks” you and you almost crumple to the ground in pain!! Or maybe that hasn’t happened to you yet and I HOPE IT NEVER DOES!!1
Jen I just happened on this link on Facebook which I haven’t checked in forever. I am so glad I got to read it. It’s beautiful. You wrote something truly beautiful. Thank you. Xo. Loni
Loni, thank you!!!
Poignant and beautiful, and funny in the best, most irreverent ways. Allison, you got me at the end. We mourn our fathers. We mourn our own lateness, arriving after that most crucial moment.
Ooooh, I love how you put that!
An interesting reversal, to find the facts listed in the story and the heart and soul in the footnotes
Jen, what a stunning and elegant piece of writing! It reminded me of how words (the spoken ones) are really just “signs” of the real experiences of our human condition and how much is lost in the translation. You also reminded me that facing the unknowingness in each of our lives and how to proceed is so challenging. I am grateful for your artful articulation. Warm wishes to you, Jake and your beautiful boy.
Gail, what a beautiful thing to read. Thank you — I can see your face as you say this and appreciate it so much.
I love that you brought us right along with you. You showed us not only the events taking place physically, but the journey inside as well. Thank you for sharing so much of yourself, so authentic and beautiful.
Thank you! It was a very intense experience, I almost need to corral it in the footnotes to make it work on paper 🙂
Just reread. Yes, it is as I REMEMBERED. The last line is appropriately terrifying in its impact. Unanticipated, just like the event. This my friends is how it’s done. Bravo, Suzanne!
You’re so kind to return! For so many of us, we anticipate multiple traumas and tragedies almost all the time, yet are stunned when a new one lands on us or nearby.
This is a beast of an essay. As a survivor of placenta accreta, I appreciate your gift of showing us, the readers, just enough and not one letter more. Thank you for choosing to write.
Sharon, Thank you. Please write your narrative. You will find the words.
Life and Death in an instance. we take it for granted too often in this field of medicine. This is a well written essay by a caring and accomplished doctor. I really hope you get to Macinac Island!
Me too!
I enjoyed reading this very much. As an OB nurse with 20years experience, I know how things can sometimes go very wrong. Thank you for sharing your perspective and I hope you eventually made it to the island.
Sylvia,
Thank you for reading this work. You know it in one form or another. I travel to the island often, in my mind.
Written so authentically. After being in Bangalore for a semester, it felt like I had gone back-so real. And naturally, very skillfully written.
Thank you – I’m looking forward to going back to India in the next few months – I miss it 🙂
Allison- I will pay more attention to lists and footnotes. I promise.
Haha, thank you!
Sophie-Variations, we all have them. One I share is being published in this edition with you. I am happy for that. The pictures you painted were shocking. I hope you and the birds have found company. I bet your Italian family called you Sophia.
Jennifer-The craft, the segments, keep this essay on tract, bold words and definitions, followed by personal narrative. It is beautiful.
Thank you, Thomas — I appreciate that so much.
I love, love, LOVE stories like this. You rock, Sonal! I’ll be happy to follow you.
Wow, thanks Jayne!
Like Jennifer, I also learned a lot from this piece. The emotional depth you achieved in its telling was like a chasm I fell into and then just kept falling. The imagery of beauty against such sadness meshed to create a very powerful piece. Congratulations, Sophie.
Congratulations, Jennifer. What an intriguing, original structure. I loved how you wove the range of emotions into such a beautiful tapestry. Honest and heartfelt without being sentimental. Truly lovely work.
Thank you, Jayne!
Thomas, this is such a haunting story, and a valued insight into this day in your life (representing, as you tell us, so many, many others). Thank you for sharing it with us.
Thank you for reading the essay and blogging your thoughts.
“Perhaps his grey, gritty, posthumous self will be less racist.” Allison, this is such a kaleidoscopic blend of beauty, humor, pathos, love — you show us your father and yourself and this aspect of India with a deft handle on all the angles, both right there and watching from high above — well done.
Thank you so much – it’s funny how sometimes my dad’s worst qualities are what I remember the most, but they definitely helped make both him and me who we are…
Suzanne, I love the balance you strike here, the lightness of the dress with the way an incomprehensible event so quickly becomes imprinted, and haunting. Beautiful.
Thank you so much for reading, Jennifer! And a huge congrats to you as well!
Sophie, what a brave, beautiful piece, and such rich, metaphorical juxtaposing of your own story and that of the macaws, those fascinating creatures. I’ve learned something in reading this today — thank you for sharing.
Congratulations!! An exquisitely written piece. I loved how you weaved together the vignettes with the sign descriptions, and the raw honesty with which you share your story.
Jesse — wow! And thank you!
Congratulations Sonal! Great story!
The mayor of mass destruction meets weapons of mass delegation.
Understatement of the year: “he [Doug Ford] would probably benefit from spending more time at the library than at Tim Horton’s.”
A lot of donuts have passed under the bridge since the library fiasco.
Cheers, DW
Thanks Donald!
Given everything that’s happened Ford-wise since then, it all seems to innocent now. We thought the worst thing he could do was close a library. How adorable!
I want to read the rest of the book. Now. Well done!
Beautiful, clever and touching all at once. Well done.
Thank you!
The ending of this is perfection. Congratulations.
I enjoyed how you included your little side notes that you do all the time; “Ignore the grabbing hands reaching for your flesh in the folds of your salwar khameez. *At least they aren’t treating you like a tourist* .” It provides a well needed bit of comic relief. I love this piece and I learned so much about Indian customs. I would have never guessed that there funerals would be so different from ours. Congratulations on such a wonderful work of art!
Thanks, Shelby! It was a full-on experience that I’m glad I got to have, and definitely made me want to learn more about what a “normal” Indian funeral would be like.
Such a beautiful way to write this story – I don’t usually like footnotes, but here, they add layers of meaning, holding the heart of the piece at a physical and emotional remove; not to choke the emotion off, but to hold it near, away from the crowd. Absolutely beautiful – masterful.
Thanks, Judy – it’s the first time I’ve played with that form, and I’m glad it’s working the way I hoped!
Love, love this piece!!
Thank you so very much!
I was pretty sure this was going to be an all-in-all humor piece but the grief at the end bowled me over with a punch in the gut.
Dola, thank you – I love twisting comedy and tragedy and I’m glad this one worked for you. (sorry about the punch)
That’s an amazing story! Wow!
Thanks Ashley. The whole time it was happening was a strange state of happy disbelief.
Beautifully written!
The end part was quite saddening.
Thank you, and I’m glad that came across.
Beautifully told all around, but what I like best is the way you talk about how this event almost instantly becomes memory, and so links to previous memory (and embellished non-memory that has been fashioned into its own kind of memory) and will spike future events, tiny and huge, that will also, in a fraction of an instant, become memory. This is how we make ourselves.
Thanks for this, Claire. I find it eerie how much self making happens during times when the self is nearly undone.
As someone originally from that country, I can safely vouch for your pretty good description of a typical funeral procession. Even (7) and (8). You reminded me of those catchy swear words I had forgotten, Allison!!
Haha, thanks Shiv! Gotta love street Hindi 🙂
When you say – You will wish you, too, had the power to stop a city, to cover it with streamers, to say, My father is dead. Mourn with me – I know exactly what you mean. Beautiful.
Rasana, thank you – I am so glad that part resonated for you. In a way, I was thinking of the girls who were arrested for posting on Facebook, but in reverse – not so much why should we shut down for one man, but why shouldn’t we shut down for all of our fathers.
Thank you so much, Elizabeth!
You have a great way of making me feel as if I’m right beside you, seeing exactly what you are seeing, feeling exactly what you are feeling when I read your pieces.
Thanks – I really appreciate that! It was a full-on experience, so I’m glad that comes through.
Exceptional,Allison. I am so moved by the humor and the grief. Will re-read many times. thank you, avk
Thank you so much! I love mixing comedy and tragedy when I can 🙂
I remember when I was reading this piece, I found myself attempting each of the signs described–what a testimony to the way you reach and engage the reader with this narrative. I was blown away by the images, immediacy and elegance of this piece then, and again now that I see you’ve won the contest! Congratulations on a beautifully-crafted piece of CNF, Jennifer. Kudos!
Thank you so much, Pamela!
Jennifer, one of the best pieces of creative nonfiction I’ve read!! I love the interaction here. I signed every word. Love the structure, the message, the writing, the creativity!! SO HAPPY YOU WON!!
Thank you, Cathy!
Thanks, Sophie.
What an awesome story about twitter. I love it!
Thanks heidi! Glad you liked it.
Wonderful piece! Debbie Downer and Positive Pig – LOL! So many of us can be so clueless. The article makes me want to learn to sign!
Thank you! It’s a fascinating language! Lifeprint.com is a great resource if you want to dip a toe in.
Jen, this is beautiful. Parenting two children who have come out of the foster system, I consistently struggle with how to tell the truth of our experience and yet remain supportive of my children. You find a way to strike this this balance in the most touching and exquisite way. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Thank you so much, Kendra — it’s so nice to read this, and I hope I will get to meet your children soon. We live much too far apart.
Gorgeous Jen. “to think not as a writer but a painter.”
Thank you thank you my friend.
Yes! I love that sentiment, too. I’ve not got it written on a sticky note on my laptop screen to remember.
That was an amazingly revealing and touching piece. Thanks
Congratulations to everybody! I loved reading these.
Jen, this is beautiful. Thanks for sharing!
It’s so nice to see your name here, Antoinette! Thank you so much for the kind words.
So creative and moving. I loved it.
Thank you, Tabitha Starr!
That was really beautiful and moving. Great job. I am proud to know you!
Thank you so much, Julie! That means a lot to me.
A stunning, layered narrative that lingers and grows with each reflection. Thank you, Suzanne!
Congratulations, Jennifer Alise. You’ve deftly capture all the ordinary aspects of parenthood seen through the extraordinary filter of your experience as a parent of a child with Cerebral Palsy. The very notion of language; verbal and non-verbal, signed and spoken, that which said and that which is left unsaid, is woven in seamlessly. I really, really enjoyed this. Congratulations again.
Thank you sincerely, Dina — I really appreciate it.
“You will wish you, too, had the power to stop a city, to cover it with streamers, to say, My father is dead. Mourn with me.” Gorgeous.
Thanks very much!
After a difficult delivery of my first son, I remember overhearing a doctor in the NICU saying how they were continually amazed at how many babies and mothers actually survive childbirth. This essay brought that memory blazing forth once again, even though it is a decade later. Full of tension, tinged with sadness, taut and leaving me with wanting to know what happened–not only with the patient, but with your wife as well. Congratulations.
The patient lived. She makes a donation in my name to the hospital every year. Her son is a pre-med student at Tulane. I am still married-forty seven years. I found out that this is a long time when at my niece’s wedding we were the last couple dancing as the years were called out.
What a great story with a huge heart at its center. Thanks Vicki.
Deciphering the diary author’s meaning (without punctuation) must have been like:
Let’s eat Mom and Let’s eat, Mom.
Enjoyable.
You’re absolutely right! In addition, his occasional misspellings gave me fits. I hit lots of dead ends looking for “Angle Inn” before I found the famous “Angel Inn” in Oxford.
***Many writers do not give themselves enough time to make sense out of life-changing events, and instead rush to write about them without allowing the stories to simmer slowly until they reveal their true meanings and deep layers***
I agree FULLY))).
3 years ago, I asked Beryl Bissell Singleton if I should write a book about my sister’s murder.
She said, “NO!” ( Having been thru the same experience as me ) “You must wait, Kim. The first two years, all you want to do it kill yourself.”
She was right. That was some of the best advice I’ve ever received.
The “simmering” has brought my words & perspective into an entirely new level of understanding.
Great Post!
Loved this. I moved to eastern PA last year and the Philly sports fan base is a fun, passionate group.
What a frustrating and incredible experience; I find it horrifying that they wouldn’t believe you.
Wonderful review! Looks like a fantastic book! Thank you Amber!
Sent your story, Joelle, to my son-in-law, a Flyers fan, born and bred. Here is his (slightly edited response.).
THAT is an awesome essay! First, it completely captures the essence
of a Philly fan and the game-day experience for a neophyte. You’ve got
to learn to bring the hate! Foes of Eagles or Flyers. Doesn’t matter
who. Secondly, I was 9-10 when the Flyers first won the cup, so the guys she
mentions are some of my heroes…still. And when the writer talks about
the players she watched when she was 11…I remember them as well for
breaking my heart / losing to the Red Wings in the 1-2 years between
marrying (my daughter) and (my grandson) being born. Great story! And timely.
Joelle, I guess you nailed it.
Thank you so much, everyone! In related news, this piece, on wilderness programs from The Atlantic, popped up on my Facebook newsfeed this morning- http://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2014/08/when-wilderness-boot-camps-take-tough-love-too-far/375582/
Congrats Hannah, I met you at the Creative Nonfiction Conference and was excited to read your work. Great piece!
A heart-wrenching piece beautifully rendered. I’m happy to see you made it through the fire and are on your way to helping others do the same. Wonderful writing.
Thanks so much! Going the traditional route to publishing, it will probably be about two years before it appears in print. Anxious as I am to share my amazing adventure, I want to do justice to my diarist’s insightful commentaries on everything from the Rotherhithe tunnel under the Thames (at that time, a failing project) to our country’s destruction of the Native American cultures.
This touched me greatly. I love the idea of the small, minute details of life that come to represent so much. I call them dark horses. The things you don’t think will matter but end up mattering the most. Beautifully told and crafted story.
I was thoroughly charmed by this piece. I wanted to ask Santos to take me fishing sometime.
Fascinating! Good luck with the book. I would love to read the rest of the story.
This is lovely, but for the fact that the Amish are horrible puppy mill breeders. But I’m all for the mint farming — and the gin, of course.
Well done! Hannah, I have no doubt you’ll nurture that creative spark into a bonfire!
I love the “manual” format of this piece, and how you intertwined the fire-making instructions with your personal narrative. Wonderful job, Hannah!
So beautiful. More Joelle Berger please.
Great job Hannah! You’re an AMAZING writer!
Maybe you’re not supposed to comprehend it; it just is. Only my thoughts.
What a beautiful telling. Thank you for sharing.
Absolutely beautiful in all its ordinariness.
Jenni–
I was not prepared to be so moved. Of course, like everyone else probably, I immediately looked up the English translation of your title, and all the words to the music. “Time to Say Goodbye.” I do not want to say too much here. I cannot. The piece speaks for itself. I plan to return to your words, and read them again and again.
Dear John,
Thank you so much for your kindness. I, too, was surprised at the translation. After doing a bit of research, I found that it is an Italian idiom which is why it seems inaccurate. Either way, it is rather poignant, isn’t it?
Again, thank you!
Best,
Jenni
I was very moved by your memoir, Jenni. There is something about combining poetry (or in this case, opera) with prose that elevates language so that it resonates more deeply than words alone can. I loved the circularity here, beginning with Bocelli, and ending with Scott’s remembrance of Bocelli. Fine craftsmanship, but transparent, so the reader feels the emotion and only sees the craftsmanship in retrospect. I wish I had written this! It was such fine reading.
Carrie and Cathy–
Sad is not a word I would use in describing this piece, which I think is flash. The word I would use is angry. There is a lot of anger here, and hurt. At the end, there is some reconciliation, but the reconciliation and acceptance is just beginning, and doesn’t get much of a start. I have never been much of a religious person. But I think the Bible is full of wonderful stories and parables. The story I think of when I read this piece is Jacob wrestling with the angel. I think we all wrestle with our own angels (or demons, if you prefer) in that we all question why we were given the particular weaknesses and strengths we struggle with. Our off-setting gifts and handicaps, if you would. These define us as a person. They circumscribe our accomplishments and failures. We are unique and individual because of these. Our task in life seems to begin with gradual discovery of our “self,” and our relative happiness or unhappiness seems to hinge on self-acceptance (or not)and then working with what we have been given or not given. We wrestle with angels all our lives, I think. Some of us win and some do not. Memoirs like this help us focus on the struggle. Well-written, Carrie! Honest, true, and to the point! Very thought-provoking.
Thank you for sharing your piece. This was absolutely beautiful, and as a reader, I really admire the almost under-stated style you use. I felt like an invisible observer during these moments in your life, as though I had experienced them myself. I look forward to reading more of your work!
Dear Krista,
Thank you so much! I really appreciate your kind words and support. As a fairly new writer, it means a great deal to me.
Best,
Jenni
Risa–
One of my favorite examples of waiting to tell a story until the story is ready, and the writer, too, finally feels the distance and perspective are right, involves Kurt Vonnegut. Probably as soon as I mention his name you will already know the story. Vonnegut was held by the Germans as a POW in WWII in the city of Dresden. The POW’s were sleeping underground, in the locker of a slaughterhouse, the night the Allies dropped so many bombs on the city it created a vast and powerful firestorm that immolated the entire city and killed every creature living above ground. When the POW’s and their captors emerged from their shelter after the firestorm, they were witness to a sight I am sure not one of them could forget as long as he lived. Vonnegut certainly couldn’t. But his experience was so overwhelming he couldn’t even begin to write about it until relatively late in his writing career. He had written a lot of novels and short stories as a younger man, but he saved “Slaughterhouse Five” until he felt he could write it right!
Ms. Brooks,
I was a student in your 4th grade class in a small Grand Rapids area sub-urb, must have been 1988-ish.
I’m not sure how I stumbled on this page, but thoroughly enjoyed the reading. I remember you telling some of these stories to us in class, seeing your pictures of cross country skiing in New Mexico, and it brought back memories I hadn’t thought of in years. Of all of the elementary teachers I had over the years, you are one of the only two that still stand out, and come up in conversations with my own children when we discuss school, class work, and teachers. Reading this story brought me back to that 4th grade class room and a particularly happy point in my life. Thanks for teaching me how to appreciate art (even if I don’t always like what I see), the love of reading and story telling, and how to ask the lunch lady for a green hotdog in German!
The power of song is overwhelming. Being a fan of Brit Rock too, I had similar experiences when I visited London. My only regret is that I didn’t have time to visit Stonehenge. (Spinal Tap) 😉
We’re not gonna play Stonehenge.
Kathryn–
Cathy Bell calls it a “frame.” Her comments are always so succinct and insightful! What she is talking about, as we both know, is that this is a story of your mother’s illness, and how in life things happen we can’t control, and that all we can control is our own attitude toward those things. Sometimes things happen that are so sad we can’t face them head-on, we have to look at them askew, and tell the story kind of askew too, like talking about our games of Yahtzee when really we are talking about something entirely different altogether. When we as storytellers do this skilfully enough, readers are able to not only read our words but read behind our words to fathom what we are really saying. I echo Cathy’s words: well done! Heartfelt in the writing, and hearfelt in the reading, too!
Thanks so much for your thoughtful comments, John. “Sometimes things happen that are so sad we can’t face them head-on…” This is so true. Perhaps grief is a door that we can open just a little bit at a time before we can walk through it.
Vance–
We have some things in common. Not the cop/sex crimes/homicide stuff, but the veteran/writer stuff. I liked your memoir here. The first time I was at the DLIWC (only you and I know what those initials mean, right?) was in 1971. I went to visit a buddy who was a Marine, learning Vietnamese. He later made the mistake of sitting up in his sleeping bag suddenly in the dark while on patrol, and a jumpy fellow Marine opened up on him thinking he was the Viet Cong. He was badly wounded, but that was his ticket home. While I was in Monterey, I came to understand what a beautiful place it was. I put the Presidio as first choice on my “dream sheet” of duty stations (dream sheet as in “in your dreams”), but coincidentally the Sergeant Major from the Presidio was at my training base and asked to see the roster of grads in my MOS, and I’ll be damned if that wasn’t where I ended up 1973-74, permanent party. A lot better than Vietnam. I haven’t been back to Monterey since, but I’d love to go. I’m sure it has changed since then, like every place has. This writing is good, intense, honest. I hope you keep it up. Strangely, I finished up my military career as a medic like Vic, but not in the Army. I retired from the Air National
Guard. This is what I would have been doing, had I been activated. Great work, helping those kids! My hat goes off to you, brother! Keep writing.
Thanks John. It’s good to hear from other Vets when it comes to writing. Fortunately for me, The Gulf War was no Vietnam. I can’t wait to see the writing that is soon to come from the Warriors we have fighting right now.
Your writing has once again captured my attention and sent my imagination across four generations of “fabric”. Loved it!
Ah, but there is also the glory of the quickly sauteed, expertly put together reflection of the moment, in the moment. I agree completely that too often we rush to write the impression before its time. There is also glory in the slowly stewed. Or even something in between. Sometimes, we need to get that impression down, as it’s happening, to get a grip on what it is. But we also need to get the distance and the maturity to understand what it truly means.
Great article, I have a lot of pots simmering. Good to know that gives them potential to be better later!
Yes, a back burner pot indeed. What a wonderful response to Dani Shapiro’s remarkable essay. For what it is worth it took me over 2 decades to write, then publish, my memoir. Given my story is about the effect that living through domestic violence had on me, it was imperative that I have that distance, otherwise it would have purely been a survival story and memoir demands so much more. Good luck to you as you bring your story out into the light.
Thanks to all of you for your comments! It’s so nice to hear from the readers when I post these essays.
Thank you Gwen and thank you very much as well, Cathy. I really appreciate that!
BEAUTIFULLY written. You have a great gift and I thoroughly enjoy your writing… even though it keeps bringing me to tears. Thanks for sharing this story, Damien.
A fabulous and touching flash piece, Lorie! Thank you so much for sharing!
Such a sad story…thank you for sharing your story with us, Carrie. I’m sure so many women can relate!
Flash is so hard to do, Sean and this is wonderful. Great job!
Wonderful frame to tell your story, Kathryn! So well done and so touching… Thank you for sharing!
Thank you for the kind words, Cathy. I just read your story, “Wash Me Clean,” and found it so moving. Beautifully told! — Kathy
Such a touching and beautiful story, Damien. I love this! Very touching. Thank you for writing it.
I liked this reminiscence. Reminds me of the garage sales I have had and the ones in which I brought home someone else’s junk such as a mink coat for $20, so old the fur was separating in unfixable places. I couldn’t bring myself to throw it out and failed to find a home for it. I kept it until I moved. The up and coming book should be fun to read.
Phenomenal essays that grabbed me from word one.
I’m so glad that you read this piece, Kathy. Thank you for your friendship and talent.
Like Brenda, I love this line: “If our girls grow up on tales of hapless maidens waiting for a knight in armor, then they will never lift the sword themselves.” Great piece, Lisa!
Love the part she says,”Write the story that would keep you turning the pages late into the night.” Hope someday I can write such a nice story!
Great story. Poignant memories. Nicely written.
I love how you convey the struggle so well here — that moment when you think you’ve got it perfect . . . and then it falls apart. But we keep at it, right? Great to read your work, as always.
Such a great story!
Love this: “We can lean in to the heroine inside the child, the story she invents, the story of herself.” Well done, Lisa. Very thought provoking piece.
Great to see you Nina. Thanks so much.
I don’t know anyone else who could meaningfully connect these disparate elements into an anthem in support of our daughters. This line is so very powerful: “If our girls grow up on tales of hapless maidens waiting for a knight in armor, then they will never lift the sword themselves.” May they lift their swords – may we give them a world where they can do so.
Thanks Brenda — I know your work for NEST is part of this better global vision!
Daniel, first thank you for your writing. But the real issue that brought me here was to contact our family back from we, in the Dominican Republic, came from. I just knew days ago about my last name, Aristy, it is from San Sebastian, Spain and people over here change the i for a y. I was in San Sebastian about 10 yrs ago, regret not knowing this at that time. Hope to contact you in the future. My name is Rainer Aristy, if you google it find me under Acero Estrella. The others are my two male kids. Regards…..
pen, ink, love and stories . . . what better gifts.
🙂 And art, my friend.
Great story! I loved it and could relate so much to having to know the answers to so many of my questions!
Brilliant, as expected… and, obviously, constructed only for smart readers, which makes it even more brilliant.
You are a very talented writer my young long-time friend!! I remember and relate….you took me on a wonderful adventure!
Enjoyed very much.
Well done, Katie. Enjoyed the read, very relatable as I have moved across country in a tiny car with my now husband.
~ Amy (MJ’s daughter)
I Love it~ Great Job Miss Katie
What I love most about this essay is the way it twists neatly in the middle, from the image of that picture-perfect family (with undertones of unrest), to the bubbling cauldron of emotions at dinner. You really show the many layers, the complexities.
I am always impressed by your positive and constructive comments, Lisa.
Unless I am somehow doing it wrong, the form seems to be cutting me off at 300 characters rather than 300 words 🙂
Same here…can I try to submit by email instead?
Oh, and it’s not allowing me a space to type my location…just shows the word “location.”
Libby and Anon – thank you for letting us know. I fixed the character count; for form-builder had a glitch. I will check on the “location” issue too. Thanks for your patience, but more importantly, for your comment here and email.
This is a touching and very well-written story that has stayed in my mind since I read it a few days ago. It vividly shows the devastating effect of alcohol on family members. How sad that Pastor Bill could not reach out to you instead of turning you away. He missed the chance to really be a pastor.
As a physician who treats liver disease and has seen many alcoholics, I would mention that alcoholism is best thought of as a disease, as this approach removes some of the stigma and may make it easier for people to seek treatment.
Robert Hass. I did not know him before, when I was writing poetry. Reading him, I accept a great gift. Let me quote one of his more simple poems whole:
PICKING BLACKBERRIES WITH A FRIEND
WHO HAS BEEN READING JACQUES LACAN
August is dust here. Drought
stuns the road,
but juice gathers in the berries.
We pick them in the hot
slow-motion of midmorning.
Charlie is exclaiming:
for him it is twenty years ago
and raspberries and Vermont.
We have stopped talking
about L’Histoire de la verite,
about subject and object
and the mediation of desire.
Our ears are stoppered
in the bee-hum. And Charlie,
laughing wonderfully,
beard stained purple
by the word juice,
goes to get a bigger pot.
Me again. For Hass, the fascination is between the word and the thing. How can we understand the thing until we know the word? And once we know the word, is there a difference between the word and the thing, and if so, what is that difference? That is the essence of poetry. That is the essence of understanding the world, and our place within it. “In the beginning was the word, and the word was God, and the word was with God.” What does that mean, exactly? The words and the stones, and the words beneath the stones in the Big Blackfoot River in Montana.
A beautifully written, compelling, powerful essay. Bravissima!
Thank you, Laura. What a great honor coming from a terrific poet and friend. (Laura has a new collection, CASTRATA, A CONVERSATION, soon to be published by Finishing Line Press.)
So insightful of an essay! I love the weaving of the husband’s story in with the OCD story. Well done Debra! Thank you for teaching us all about a most difficult disease in such beautiful prose! And the dog in your photo is adorable!
Thank you so much, Cathy! And thanks, too, for commenting on my dog, Charlie, who is, I’m afraid, too familiar with the subject of OCD.
Dawn:
Pamela Ramos Langley picked a good word to describe this piece: “authentic.” Other good words would be “genuine,” and “honest.” This piece shared a common theme with one of Pamela’s own, titled “Stitching the Womb” in the January 2014 issue of Hippocampus. You ought to take a look at it. People often say very hurtful things off the cuff, without meaning to be hurtful, without understanding that they are revealing a kind of ugly prejudice within themselves when they think they are denying that very thing. Your piece was touching, full of what Hemingway (and those who write about Hemingway) call “true felt emotion.” I was moved. I haven’t finished reading the August issue yet, but I believe this is a piece that will get shared a lot, that will provoke comment, and that certainly is one I will remember. Excellent! Great writing! I think it is the best in the issue that I have read so far, and there are some good pieces here in this issue.!
I love this article. Especially the story with the woman at the park….such a smart response and I’m sure that incident will stay with her longer than any other. I’m black and my husband is white. He’s had situations where people around him are talking were talking about Obama, more specifically him and his potential running for President. At that time, I just gave birth to my son and my husband brought four photos to show his bowling teammates. One picture I was holding Miles up and you could see my black arm, two were of Miles by himself and the last was of Miles and myself head to head. One woman saw the picture of my arm and said, “Who is that”. Matthew said, “Marla”, the woman said, “Oh it must be the lighting.” When she got to the last picture of the both of us. She questioned with great shock and a ‘oh no this can’t be Marla, all the things we’ve said, no, no, no it can’t be’ tone, “WHO IS THIS?????” Matthew, “Oh that’s Marla”. My husband said there was weird “Hush” that came over the room…in a bowling alley, mind you, followed by two black bowlers who knew I was of hue laughing with a ‘These assholes are so embarrassed now!!!’ attitude. The bowling team members proceeded to take up a “sorry we didn’t know your wife was black and we’ve made a lot of racist comments, but we are not racist” collection.
Well, this is well-told. It made me laugh. “It must be the lighting” is a comment that belongs on some sort of master list. I’m going to share that one with my kids, lol.
Beautiful. I often wonder not if, but when I will have to begin to have these conversations with my three children-particularly my daughter. Racism is subtle, nuanced. I know my husband can take the kids out in dirty clothes and he will be treated just fine because he is a white, middle class, 40 year old man. But I don’t have the same luxury. My experiences out with my children are extremely different than his. Even now, in 2014. Thank you for sharing this.
Alisha, thank you. Yeah, the conversations will happen, and they are good. Still, it was a little sad for me when I realized that my children developed an awareness of race, the categorizing kind of awareness that separates people. I like it much better in the young child’s world, where skin color is a just a descriptive fact, like tall or short. That’s the place my idealistic self likes to live. Someday we shall have it.
This is heartbreakingly beautiful–especially for a native of So CA who lives in the Inland Empire. We sometimes yearn so dearly for those who leave us too soon.
What a personal, powerful, wonderful piece of writing.
Love the rhythm of this piece — nice work, Caleb! Seems like being dad of the year is the next thing on your “I’ve got this list”. Congratulations!!!
I found your story so evocative and moving – it brought tears to my eyes.
Great read!
Thanks, Sarah! xo
Read it , Great x I know my daughter will face struggles, But i plan to always be by her side , and as mothers that’s all we can do right . I do give you props cause i have a fiery temper and would not have kept my cool so well with some of those encounters. xx
This is outstanding Dawn. Sharing with my stepdaughter who has a 3-year old birayshul daughter of her own.
Excellent! Thanks for sharing your story. 🙂
Thank you for writing and sharing this. It was beautifully written, poignant and bittersweet. The theme of loss of innocence is common, but infinitely tellable and relatable. Keep on writing and sharing, Amy.
Dawn, I loved your piece and have shared it. It gave me pause and felt authentic and important to me.
Powerful.
Amazing piece of writing. Jack Kerouac would be pleased.
Awesome!
Always looking for ideas for interesting courses. Thanks, Donna.
Great work Caleb!
Fantastic essay, Caleb! Congratulations!
Donna:
Here are a couple other names of poets I believe are worth reading: James Dickey and Louise Gluck. Dickey was born in 1923, Wright in 1927, Snyder in 1930 and Gluck in 1943. Gluck, as a poet from a different generation than the other three, was a wonderful surprise to find! She and Snyder are the only two of the four still living.
Such lovely interweaving and interlacing of moon, life, death, pulls of nature and generations. Unforgettable voice infuses work and my day long after I’ve read. Shocked to find after reading that you teach at Brockport where I got my MA in the 1990s. Look forward to following your work. – Renee Rivers unpackedwriter.com
Hi, Renee! Thank you for your kind words. I’m happy to find another Brockport grad. I graduated from SUNY Brockport with my MA, too. But in 2006. Are you still in the area?
Sarah
You have lucky. lucky daughter, Lisa.
Thanks — I’m lucky to have them, too.
I LOVED this essay. Really loved it. There are pitch perfect sentences and sentiments here. Lisa Ahn is a talent we cannot let go. Lean in, Lisa. We need your words, your observations, and your spirit!
Thanks so much Donna.
Wonderful! You captured the love.
Just read this for the first time! So touching! Love it Uncle Rick!!!
I should not that I read this to Michelle and Dan, long since married, and explained that this was how I remembered it, and that their adult memory might have remembered it differently. They laughed as I read, and Dan said, after the “ridicule” line — well, you got that right! -Donna
Who wrote “Cup of Joe”, may I ask? Interesting!
John, thanks for reading and for sharing your own story! The grinding stone was SO fascinating. The Cup of Joe story was mine, the story that inspired this particular prompt. Thanks for asking — I hadn’t realized I left off the name! – Donna
I too have felt a link between visual and language arts. They both involve a single organ–in visual art it is the eye, in language art it is the tongue. They both make use of imagery. Yet the human organism is multi-sensual. And somehow art involving a single sense can somehow evoke and stimulate all the other senses as well. Who can look at a Gauguin painting from his Tahiti period and not feel the tropical heat, smell the fecundity of jungle, hear the breakers roll onto the shore? Who can listen to Copland’s “Appalachian Spring” without sensing renewal and beginning, the unquenchable life forces stirring, rising up onto the shore of winter like a strong tide pulled by the moon’s gravity? I envy your being able to work in two media. I worked in photography for a while, but now only writing. Yes, we’re all in “communications,” we artists, no matter the media in which we communicate.
My favorite sentence: “Johnny came home, a feisty bundle with a moon of a face, a soft belly, toes sphered like peas, his feet smooth like fresh bars of soap.” What imagery!
Thanks for reading, John! I appreciate it 🙂
Powerfully voiced in such a short span of words! You are of another generation. I do not know Ryan Adams, though now that you mentioned him, I wish I did. I certainly know your mother’s Joni Mitchell, though, and “Carey” from her CD (LP when I listened to it) “Blue.” I don’t know when popular music stopped speaking directly to me. It was like suddenly not believing in Santa Claus any more. I was headed one direction, and music another. Reading about your mother’s life makes me wonder why happiness is so difficult for some people to find. I wonder if the problem lies within the unhappy themselves (ourselves) or in the world itself as they (we) perceive it. “I could have told you, Vincent, this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.” I think about the fruit of your mother’s unhappiness, of her whole life, really, and I wonder if it couldn’t be this wonderful voice you have shared with us, so much beauty from so deep a sadness, like Billie Holiday’s vocals can make the listener tremble in the heart. A tempestuous world of tornadoes outside, and a tempestuous world inside too. Art holding the mirror up to nature. So fine, Feagin.
It’s almost like a haiku in it’s brevity and impact. What beautiful imagery. The ending hit me about a minute after I’d finished reading. Gasp!
I think I was holding my breath through reading this whole thing. I’ve read it before but it was just as amazing the second time around. Love this story that tugs at my heart from all angles. Beautiful story niece Sarah! So proud of you!
thank you, aunt jill! when i revisit this piece, it feels as if it has just happened. xoxo
sarah
Love your work. Great message! Keep writing, please.
Thanks Chris. I always love your essays as well.
These are beautiful, Pamela. So elegant and short and yet they say so much. I’m still reading. Get back to you on fb soon.
What an honor to have you read my work, Bonnie! I treasured your personal message.
Memorable. Delightful. What a metaphor–a couch thrown off a balcony, and graduation from college! Someone should have warned me–counselors?–that it was going to be traumatic, jumping from the world of academe to the world of dollars and cents. I wasn’t prepared for the leap. Looks like you did fine. Great job! Look forward to reading more of your stuff in the future, as I undoubtedly will.
Interesting. Part science, part mythos. Captivated my attention. If you have traveled in the Southwest and studied pictographs and petroglyphs left on desert rock by the Archaic peoples, you know that the biggest and most impressive figures, those with a rectangular shape, are holding snakes, presumably rattlesnakes. One theory is that these figures often guard canyon entrances, and warn passersby: “Don’t mess with us. We control powerful medicine here. Stay away.” The snake is power, is a magical weapon. To me, they are dangerous to both people and animals. I personally know people who have been bitten by rattlesnakes, and they harbor no romantic notions about them afterwards. Being bitten scared them, they worried they would die or be permanently disabled some way, and it hurt and made them sick. They spent quite a while in hospitals, being monitored for complications. Twice now, I have basically stumbled over snakes in the trail, actually touched them with my boot before I saw them, or heard them, and then by reflex jumped three feet into the air, back and away. Neither time did the snake bite me, for which I am grateful. I guess maybe they ARE magic, powerful medicine.
How wonderful to consider certain books to be magic! Interesting that of your three magic books, two are books of poetry, and the third is prose written by a poet! Poetry is becoming a lost language. You know, the only people who read poetry anymore (teachers of poetry don’t count because they HAVE TO read it) are other poets. I think you must write some poetry too. Most people don’t think, “Hmm. I’d like to read something. Maybe a nice book of poetry?” The last book I really became excited about, and had to tell every reader I knew (not many people are even readers these days) was prose, and it was first published in 1942, Beryl Markham’s “West with the Night.” I just happened to stumble across a reference to it, and my interest was piqued. So why do we write poetry, and how did we become story tellers, Donna? I look back at nursery rhymes and fairy tales as part of my inspiration to do so. My mother told me that my favorite nursery rhyme was one called “Bobby Shafto.” Do you know it? I found out later it is not so much a nursery rhyme as an Irish song. It has this ineffable sadness about it, speaking between the lines of a journey, a lover left behind, and loss: “Bobby Shafto’s gone to sea,/Silver buckles at his knee; /He’ll come back and marry me,/Bonny Bobby Shafto!” When I was an undergraduate studying English poetry, I found I loved another simple poem with the same themes, and that is, really, also a song: “Westron wynde, when wilt thou blow?/The small raine down can raine./Cryst that my love were in my armes/And I in my bedde again.” Believe it or not, I think these poems connect to, and I can hear the same wistful longing in, the first line of a book of prose that begins: “I had a farm in Africa, at the foot of the Ngong Hills.” Don’t you, too?
Morgan, this is a great story. You have serious talent. This was serious reading and it kept me in wonder…
I hope you keep this up and see where it takes you.
Morgan – Unreal detail and beautiful imagery. I really enjoyed reading it.
okay I’ll try again………I liked the descriptive quality of the situation,it made the setting as clear as necessary……I had to read it a couple of times but I think I get it, I can relate to what the man sitting on the porch was feeling,for some reason mabe peer presure young men cannot just walk away from some situations, and the man grew up in a different time when confrontations were not an option if you were of a young age,” back in my day” and chances are the streets were the form of justice that would be swifter than any cop car……and somehow fairer, The fact that the young man would not identify the man sort of confirms the street justice idea, perhaps the whole thing would be over there…….or the young man won’t be young forever and then the man would get his…according to the natural order of street justice….I love your use of words how it allows me the reader to figure things out for myself……kinda looking at an abstract painting and making it make sense thanks for the opportunity to look into your mind.ps sat hi to daddy for me xo
This is without a doubt the finest piece in the issue. But that doesn’t matter, does it? What matters is your relationship with your mother, and how strong it was even with her fading memory. A few issues ago, I read a piece that touched me very deeply because it involved the death of a parent to cancer. My father died of prostate cancer. I have also known Alzheimer’s, so your piece touched me as well. My aunt developed Alzheimer’s. My uncle had told his sons, my cousins, that as soon as my aunt couldn’t recognize him, he would have no further reason for living. When he was certain that she didn’t know him, he shot himself. This came as quite a shock to me, because my cousins hadn’t told me what he had said. What do you do when someone tells you his or her life has become unbearable? Do you respect the decision, or do you try to intervene? I honestly don’t know. My uncle was the strongest willed person I have ever known. I don’t think anyone could have stopped him. They had married right after the Second World War. They had been married over 60 years. My uncle had been the star point guard on Colorado A&M’s basketball team, and he could have gone on to play pro ball if he hadn’t been drafted out of school to fight in the war. So, Alzheimer’s. Thank you for having the courage to write this, so those of us who also have come to know this terrible affliction can understand we are not alone.
Wow – terribly sad about your uncle and aunt, John. We were lucky with my mom in so many ways. I appreciate your words about my writing, and I’m glad that the piece touched something in you. Thank you, John.
So heartfelt and real and wisely written because this is what we do after a loss. We ask ourselves, “What if?”
I love the deep child POV here and the evocative details – I can feel this world. Great work, Darrelyn.
Thank you so much, Richard. So glad you enjoyed.
Nicely done Morgan! A suspenseful and gripping story that reads like poetry, highlighting your masterful use of the English language. I like the way you gave us no real answers, leaving the readers to form their own conclusions and to ask themselves what would they have done had they been any of the characters involved. This, in my opinion, has the hallmark of a great story and I look forward to reading more of your work in the near future.
Thank you for sharing your beautiful memory. It brought tears to my eyes, not because I didn’t have a mother like yours but because you describe her with such love.
Thank you so much, Sadie. It makes me so happy — and heals another bit of me — to know that the story of my mom resonates in someone. I appreciate it!
Just incredible! My husband’s dad died of Alzheimer’s disease a couple of years back so I read parts of the writing to him and we reminisced about similarities with his dad. And then, I couldn’t read aloud any more because I was crying. There was just so much love between them. It made me think of my own parents who are really starting to age. Thank you for this piece. Very touching in many ways.
Hi, Jackie,
Thank you so much for your oh-so-kind words. I’m glad that the story struck a chord in you, and I’m grateful to you for letting me know. Thank you!
The difficulty with flash has always been the ability to convey a truth with resonance in a condensed body of work. Partitions embodies the benefits to such a form, where the idea behind the title transfers into every aspect of the story being told. There is divide in all actions taken, two sides (sometimes more) to every choice we make, differing perspectives to every circumstance. Where the antagonist and protagonist were named, the merging of the two identify a the constant that (should) troubles us all. Is there a time when ‘righteousness’ betrays us? When victim and perpetrator swap roles… Though only for a second, I cared for the barking boy in all his malice, and questioned the nature of the once sitting man. As I read, I believed this was done purposely, through control and chaos, I believed it was intended that we question the actions of all. By framing the story with the crying girl’s departure, and her memory, I was reminded that in any account, the voiceless are the victims. That after an account as eye opening as the one in Partitions, she is where the injustice lies – the one we can not afford to forget. With imagery that lit fire to the retelling, “The man’s eyes grew blazingly wide and shone brighter than the waking glints unveiling from under the blue, not yet black, sky” and truths that run deeper than a single read of the story can offer, I enjoyed the poetic brutality of this piece. There were very good reads in this ‘father figure’ edition of Hippo, this was one of them.
You have beautiful words.
Darrelyn, you are truly one of the most evocative writers I’ve ever read. I am so proud to have grown up with you and to still know you, girlfriend!
Thank you, Sally. That means the world to me. We had some great fun at your parents’ house. They always made me feel welcome. And we were not always behaving. Love you, too, girlfriend.
This makes me want to meet your father. So well done.
Love this beautifully written story about your mom. I managed to hold back the tears until I read: “And then somehow I felt on my right cheek the whisper of the papery wings of a butterful, fluttering. It wasn’t until then that I realized what was happening.”
Thank you, Darrelynsaloom. 🙂 I’m glad that it touched something in you, and I appreciate that you let me know! 🙂
Sue
Thank you, Jayne! I’m sorry that your mom’s death didn’t have the kind of comfort in it that I was fortunate enough to get when my mom died. But I”m glad that your writing about it has helped you to heal. Sue
This is exquisite, Cathy. I envy you so. My experience of my mother’s death was very different and did not end with the kind of that you got to experience. But I did write about it and, like you, it did help me heal.
Sue and Jayne, I experience the loss of my mom as well. I did not write about it yet — not much anyway. It’s funny; we publish essays about loss every few issues and reading these powerful pieces has helped me a great deal. I still have to get some things out – but it takes time. Can I ask at what point you began writing about her and/or the loss?
Hi, Donna. For me it took 40 years. My mother died when she was 54 and I was only 23. The events surrounding the day of her death have literally haunted me all this time and it took writing about it to finally get some clarity and forgive my 23-year-old self for some of my actions that I had not understood. I will be submitting the piece to this year’s Remember in November competition.
Hi, Donna,
For two years, I couldn’t write a thing about my mom’s last couple of years. I could write about her as she had been when I was young, but though I knew I’d one day want to write about that last week, I couldn’t touch it for two years. I didn’t know I was ready to write until I was in a class one evening, and the instructor gave the prompt: “The day that ______ happened, I knew that ____.” Without even thinking, I suddenly wrote, “The night my mom kissed me good-bye forever, I knew that she was there.” Then I couldn’t stop.
And it was excruciating to write. But I HAD to write, and I LOVED the writing of it, because it helped me feel very close to her again. I’d work on it each night for as long as I could until the sobbing got too exhausting. Then I’d stop, and be very eager to start the next night…..and I’d sob each time I’d work on it.
It definitely takes time. I don’t know how long it’s been since your mom’s passing, but I wish you well on the journey. It’s so primal; it’s so deep, and very layered. I’m glad that reading yet another loss issue has (maybe) helped you as you walk the walk. Reading them helps me, too.
Sue
Congratulations. It’s a wonderful piece.
Thank you, Jayne. I’m so glad you enjoyed.
Very well written. Good imaginery skills. Keep up the good work!
Powerful. Brimming with heart. Gorgeously written. Damn…
Thanks, Dave. 🙂
Barbara G The uniqueness of this story is in the telling. It is not an unusual situation where bad elements come into a neighborhood to wreak havoc and put people in fear, but the style that Ms. Christie uses to tell her story really accentuates this very tense interlude…short, punchy descriptions, deft phrases and phrasing that capture the jerkiness of the moment as well as the characters; I also love the metaphors that give depth and richness to the story, i.e. the way Ms. Christie uses animal sounds (chirping and barking) to describe the animalistic behavior of the boys and the use of eyes to represent the people. I particularly like the description of a once-sitting man who becomes the now-standing man to represent the fact that sitting is fine, but that there are times when one has to get up and stand for something. This is a good piece.
SO many great stories this month! This is yet another shining example of what creative non-fiction is all about!
Awesome essay! The writing is so fluid! Great imagery. Really put me there.
This is a great one!
The vivid detail painted by Morgan in this story clearly puts the reader in the yard watching the events unfold. Every sequence of events is told in such as way as to insure the reader understands what eqach party to the events are feeling. The colorful story telling technique places the reader so near the danger, yet safely watching from a distance. A very moving story about good versus evil, and the often necessary steps to insure goodness prevails.
This is the second of your columns I’ve read, Donna, and I really like them. I have known inspiration as a funny thing. When I was writing poetry in college, I was taking a shower once and lines of poetry started putting themselves together in my head so fast that I literally ran out out of the bathroom naked, dripping and started writing them down. A few little revisions and additions (not much, or many), and that poem won one of the Hallmark Honor Prizes for undergraduate poetry that year, a national competition. Another time I was writing a letter to a friend, by hand (in the 1970’s) and I wrote: “I’ve got a poem in my head I’d like to write. Let me put down a rough draft of it. Tell me what you think.” He wrote back “John, that is one of the best poems I’ve ever read,” and I realized I hadn’t written a rough draft at all, I had written the poem. That poem was a runner-up in the same Hallmark competition. I have also known incredibly long periods in which I haven’t written anything. For forty years, while I was working for a living, I gave up writing. During that time, I took up nature photography. My wife and I were living in Estes Park, near Rocky Mountain National Park, and there was a lot of nature to photograph there. As a poet, I would often imitate poets I admired–James Wright, Gary Snyder. As a nature photographer, I chose Galen Rowell (also a climber and mountaineer) as my mentor. I learned f-stops and shutter speeds, and I became a student of light, of darkness. A local photo shop sponsored an annual contest, and I started entering, and darned if I didn’t start winning prizes. I think that is because even my poetry had been visual. I have a gift for imagery. Then the age of digital photography arrived, and I just wasn’t up to learning technique all over again, and that was that. I still shoot 35mm film. But I have finally started writing again. In my old age, so far anyway, the vagrant and fickle muse hasn’t touched me on the shoulder like she used to do when I was young, but I keep hoping for her. Writing is mostly hard work. Maybe she doesn’t visit because I haven’t tried writing poetry again. I wonder, sometimes, if I still have a voice that is capable of singing. Or if I just must content myself with talking. Sometimes I can feel profound rhythms moving inside, like the waves of the sea off the coast of California, where I lived for a year, or the turning of the seasons in the Colorado mountains, where I live now. But at least I am writing again. May your own words and thoughts continue to flow easily, Donna.
What a wonderful interview Lori Myers. Sonja is so natural and genuine. No pretensions. I am intrigued and will read her work Ghostwriter or essays, whichever I can find first.
Thank you so much, Marlena. I’m glad the interview will result in you reading Sonja’s work.
I’ve never been in
this situation, but writer Morgan Christie made me feel as if I had been there,
when the boy grabbed the knife I could feel the blade sliding through my
fingers and my heart started to race in anticipation of what was going to
happen next. I loved the animalistic satire as well as the vivid imagery of
this story. Great job Ms. Christie
Donna, Thanks for the thoughtful commentary. Perhaps I was being reactionary. I found this interview via one of my classmates who shared it on his page. I do have children and I went back to school to pursue writing and found my professors terribly dismissive and disdainful of the fact that I was a mother. I cried until someone offered me Anne Lamott’s book and showed me that it was possible to have a discussion about creativity as a woman that wasn’t underlined by this notion that Ms. Livingston reiterated in her interview namely “That said, education and work did play a part. As did not having children, which freed up the time and energy to continue my education and pursue my interests.” The idea that the key to her success besides luck was not having children and education. I suppose my bias would be to say that one’s status as a parent or notparent has no bearing on a discussion about individual creativity. It, to me, is not the same choice as buying a house. But you’re right, maybe this isn’t the place and I should learn to read past the first paragraphs of an article before become hotheaded. Cheers.
Lucy, thanks for taking the time to respond to my reply. I appreciate you sharing, and I am sorry you were judged in the past by writing mentors. I hope that you feel encouraged, and continue to, in your creative pursuits! On both ends of this question people are challenged by those on the other side–it’s easier said than done, I know, but if we try not to take any judgement (outside the constructive, helpful stuff!) to heart, we can remain confident in our abilities and focused on the goal. Have a great evening! Hope you enjoyed Lori’s interview otherwise.
I really enjoyed this story. I especially like how the villainous boys were described with animalistic words such as chirping and barking, it really showed how primitive those attackers were. I was glad to see that the man at the end wasn’t put in any trouble either. Perhaps his method was a little violent, but those boys needed to be taught a lesson.
You’ve told us a story in which we’re forced to question what’s right, and wrong. But you’ve also reminded the reader of an underlying truth; that is that of always having a choice. The man made a choice, as did the eyes and the boy, even the narrator. In the end, all must live with the choices they’ve made. This truth stands for us all in any decision we may make. A beautifully told story of grit, honesty, and ethics. Congratulations Morgan 🙂
thank you! 🙂
Life leaves us with so many unanswered questions. The ending is beautiful. How touching to realize she did say goodbye.
Excellent short story. The perspective and lack of named characters really draws a reader into the story. Great read.
Another example of academia snobbery–implying that those who have children are somehow less than artistically. Surely there are examples of successful female writers who’ve also managed to come out of poverty and have children of their own. Why imply that this is an either or choice? Elitist.
Lucy, I think that’s a stretch for you to infer that Sonja’s comment was tied to whether or not having kids influences one’s artistic ability. (In most cases, I’d beg the opposite; children bring out creativity and can be amazing little muses!) So, I think Sonja was just merely saying that because she did not have kids, she in turn had more time to create and pursue the career path that she chose. I can relate to that comment because I do not have kids myself (yet) and I, too, think part of the reason I’ve been able to accomplish the things I have was by waiting to have children. So, with that said, I don’t get a sense of anything other than that in this interview.
Time gets in the way for many of us–whether its raising children, caring for a relative, working two jobs, going back to school, devoting time to community service or playing sports–other responsibilities and obligations might prevent us from writing or pursuing our creative endeavors, either at all or not as much as we’d hope. Sonja could have said “I waited to get married” or “I put off buying a home” in place of her answer and the story would have the same result, which I think was this: being deliberate in choices and commitments to ensure she stayed on track with her goals.
People in all careers–not just artistic ones–choose not to have kids or to delay having children: I certainly don’t think that makes someone a snob. (I mean, someone could be a snob and not have kids, of course! But I don’t think that’s the reason WHY.) Just the same, as you mention, many artists of all backgrounds–silver spoon in mouth or no spoon at all–are successful and do find time to create while parenting. I agree with you that it’s not an either or. But it IS a personal choice. The many debates on kids vs. no kids are persistent ones, but I truly don’t think that debate belongs, here, on the comments section of this particular interview; it was but a mere sentence in a much longer interview. I love open discussion, but I also value relevance.
(P.S. I rarely comment like this on Hippocampus, but I felt I had to respond. Not to defend Sonja per se, but to make sure that a tiny portion of this interview was not taken out of context and to encourage others to not turn the comments section here into a debate on kids and academia–we’re not in the business of policing comments, so if you do, please be civil. But please DO comment otherwise; lots of great talking points in this interview!)
Hi Lucy,
Thank you for taking the time to read and respond. Of course, creativity isn’t an either/or choice, clearly many writers & artists are mothers. My mother is one of the most creative people I know and she had seven! That said, the question was about making it out of poverty. In the inner city of Rochester NY where I grew up the chances of graduating high school are something like 40%, no matter how talented or creative you are. 40%, no matter how smart you are. In my old neighborhood, teen pregnancy and poverty were rampant and linked, and the truth is that not having children played a big factor in my ability to complete high school, let alone college. Like it or not, the girls who got pregnant were much more likely to drop out and struggle like our mothers had. But I don’t think teenage girls are thinking about statistics, and neither did I. I was as reckless as other girls but had shoddy ovaries, which meant I couldn’t get pregnant, I was no better or worse. And those women’s lives are no better or worse. But as a high schooler, I was lucky. And yes, I say lucky, because while not having children became an eventual sadness for me, when I was young, it absolutely made it easier for me to get through school. Best to all of you with your writing.
Thanks for sharing more of your journey with us, Sonja.
Donna:
Here is a link to the screenplay for Clint Eastwood’s Oscar winning “Unforgiven,” which I found to be very powerful:
http://sfy.ru/?script=unforgiven
Perhaps if I could pick one movie I most admire, though, and the book, it would be the most recent version of “True Grit.” I believe Clinton Portis’ novel is on a par with the greatest literature ever to be written by Americans, “Huck Finn” or “Moby Dick.” From the beginning of the novel, the incredible voice of Mattie Ross, as distinctive a voice as Huck’s, or as the man who declares famously “Call me Ishmael,” carries the plot. And what a plot! Such a combination of humor, pathos, tragedy, action. God, I love it.
Also, I am a great fan of Jame’s Wright. He is an Ohio poet, and he writes about home. I read every book he ever published. I had the pleasure of listening to him read at Colorado State University, which had a pretty strong creative writing undergrad program. James Crumley taught there for a while, as did (does) Mary Crow. They brought a lot of good writers to campus, the biggest luminary probably being Norman Mailer. Now CSU offers an MFA. Don’t go there, though. Go to CU instead.
Another poet I would strongly recommend is Gary Snyder. I think a lot of people are put off by modern poetry (as they are by modern art) because it is so damn cerebral and esoteric. Snyder isn’t like that at all. He is earthy. And he writes about concrete, tangible things. He brings his Buddhist sensibility to his appreciation and understanding of nature. Snyder was portrayed by Jack Kerouac as the character “Japhee Ryder” (I think that’s how he spells it) in “Dharma Bums.”
Good poetry speaks to the soul and heart like nothing else written can, except maybe music.
Very well written Morgan, chilling yet compelling story. I wanted more of it. This story has the making of a future blockbuster movie. Keep up the good work
If only more men stood up before there was trouble. Each time I read it I feel closer to the neighborhood, there, right there wanting to help her. Great job Morgan.
Yes, this isn’t prose. It is poetry. It isn’t meant to be read silently, on the page. It is meant to be read aloud. When this is read aloud, you clearly hear the music in the verse. I am sure that Betty Jo read this aloud to herself to arrive at her final draft. Listen to the music here. To help you hear the music, I will break down the lines for you as I would write them as poetry. You can do this for the whole last half of the piece, but I will only break down the lines in one paragraph. It is truly beautiful. Listen to the pauses, the inflection:
Now, the hospital bed
engulfs my mother’s body.
She has become her bones—
sharp elbows,
the points of her knees,
her cheeks a deep slash.
Her fingers are an outline
of long fragile bone,
the knob of every joint
like punctuation.
Her hands,
once always busy,
now aren’t quite sure
what to do.
Occasionally,
the fingers of one hand
absently brush
the speckled back of the other.
At times,
She clutches the side rails
tightly,
the way you would
brace yourself
on a scary
amusement park ride.
Sometimes she lifts her arm
toward the ceiling,
and it lingers there,
forgotten.
Loved this story, left me on edge of my seat waiting to read the next line. Good read Morgan. Looking forward to more from you in the near future.
This is a wonderful story that depicted right and wrong. There is an insinsuation that something very wrong took place between the screaming girl and the boys.The law was informed and did nothing, but the sitting man did.There are injustices in our society and this is just a very good example of it.By the law,the man was legally wrong but morally the man was right in my opinion. Very well written Morgan.
Awesome Read Morgan!!!! Wow the was Edgy and Witty at the same time. Loved the way the story moved around and keep reader wanting to follow the whole time. Very nice imagery.
Keep up the good work. Looking forward to the Next good read. I’m a fan….wher do I sign up for your fan club for up and coming writers and Can I have an autograph?
Stay Up^
Charles M. Fishback
This is a great piece Morgan…well written. It kept me on the edge of my seat waiting to find out what was going to happen next. If this is a sampling of what is yet to come from you, I can hardly wait.
Perceptive, challenging, and told with candour – brava.
Your story gave me chills, Morgan. There is palpable dramatic tension in short dialog and description of bloody confrontation. Keep on writing!
Terrific work, as always, Morgan! Congratulations!
I was really captivated by the story — really enjoyed, too, the back and forth with the dad story and the flytrap. Cheering for your dad, and moved by your welcome and acceptance of him. Great piece.
Really engaging story, Wendy! My heart was pounding the whole time.
Well written story Morgan! Great imagery and creativity. I really enjoyed it!
You tell a beautiful story in which everyone is right. And wrong.
Silence is
Wow. This is a fantastic piece, Darrelyn! I loved it!
Thank you, Cathy. I’m so glad you enjoyed.
I just love this Amber! Amazing story and writing! Thank you for sharing!
Andrea, I love the structure of this piece! It’s a touching, beautiful story. Thank you!
Wonderful story, Wendy!
So I have a few things to comment on. First off, I like what you’ve done with the format of the piece. It has an experimental tone, a merged form of non-fiction and poetry (a beautiful use of language in the retelling of a harsh reality), one that I enjoyed. The personification of the ‘eyes’ played so well in relation to ‘bystander’ effects and how it’s so easy to simply watch an injustice, versus stand (as the once sitting man did) and act! The use of the ‘once sitting man’ and ‘barking boy’ becoming a ‘single, unnerved entity’, was on point. This idea of blending right and wrong, and having the reader question what those two terms stand for when circumstances change. These are the true ‘Partitions’ all people are forced to face in understanding any truth about morality. You really give us something to think about with this short but punch-the-gutstory, wonderful piece Morgan!
Such a beautiful, beautiful essay, Sue. Thank you so much for portraying the beauty in such a terrible disease. It heals us all.
Thanks so much, Cathy! It was excruciating for me to write, but it helped heal me, too. A little bit more each time I read it….. Thanks again!
I’m not sure if you read my piece on Hippocampus from last October called Wash Me Clean, but I hope you can read it. I think it heals us all to write about Alzheimer’s. It’s a rough one. And congrats on getting Most Memorable…Yay!
Too bad we can’t quick clone you before you’re gone. How many schools do you think there are in Canada and the United States? Half a million or more? We need that many clones of you grown to adulthood, one in each school! You seem like a teacher who really cares, and who could make a difference. You know, I was lucky enough to spend my last five years of grade school in a two-room country school. The teachers, a man and his wife, lived in a residence right in the schoolhouse. Their dream was to start their own private school for gifted children. In the meanwhile, they applied the techniques and methods they wanted to use with gifted kids on us. It was wonderful! A lot of personalized attention based on each student’s strengths and weaknesses. We wanted to learn, and they let us pursue our own interests in special projects. I remember leading some classmates through putting a bulletin board together about the American Civil War. We were a kind of homogenous community of blue collar citizens. Nobody was rich, but a few were poor. All that changed as Colorado grew and became “Californized” we call it. The school districts were reorganized and kids from our community were bussed to town schools. This was to make sure every child was afforded a “quality” education. The education we received in town was far inferior to what we had been receiving in that two-room country schoolhouse from those two teachers who were years ahead of their time, and who really cared about us! This is a touching memoir. Jake was lucky he found you. I’m sure you helped many students like Jake, and I’m sure all those students you helped have carried some small part of your love for them through their own lives, and have passed it on to others in turn. What a life you have had!
So–how did you like the pork chop? As much as Adam enjoyed his apple?
I really loved this! Great read!
This is a wonderful piece of writing that reminds me of a piece from The Moth series of storytelling. These moments in life are rich, and with time we can tease out the sublimity when we juxtapose them against the general drudgery. I, too, am glad that you’ve returned to your passion. Clearly you’ve simply delayed accessing the talent.
Thank you for your kind words, Pamela. I was hoping you would respond. As you know, I’ve read one piece of yours in Hippocampus, the most memorable “Stitching the Womb,” which certainly touched a raw nerve with a lot of readers, judging by the number of comments left. Has your writing appeared in any other issues? How about in any other e-mags that I could access? I would really like to read anything else that you may have written. If a tree falls in the forest, and no one is around to hear, does it really make any sound? If a writer composes a memoir, and nobody else reads it, is it really a memoir? And is the writer really a writer? Thanks again. I’ve read many of your comments attached to other pieces, and what you have to say is always insightful and thoughtful.
John, I was happily published in a number of journals over the past year. My bio on here in Hippocampus (beneath Stitching the Womb) contains a link to my website, which has a tab titled Creative Works–all active links are listed there. I have a new piece, Demonios Y Canciones Mi Padre, which will be included in the June issue of the Santa Fe Literary Review.
As to your first notion of when a writer call call him/herself a writer, I say as soon as the illustrative pen touches the notion of paper–but reader response theory would argue otherwise. I suppose it depends on what we are seeking from the act of writing. I appreciate the dialogue!
Sheesh! Sorry you had to tell me what should have been obvious. I usually make a point of NOT checking out writers’ websites or blogs. I’ve got this thing about computers. Not liking them, I mean. I checked out your website and was impressed by your professional presentation. I was a technical writer for several years. Worked for Data Services, the mainframe computer supporting the State of Wyoming. I put out a monthly newsletter that went to some 750 state employees. That was the enjoyable part of my job. The part that wasn’t enjoyable was writing computer application user manuals. Yuck! At another time in my life I had a couple clients for whom I was proofreading Engineering studies, and I tried to build that into a freelancing business, but it was a no go. I see you had a “hiatus” from creative writing, too. Just like I did. Not quite my 40 years, I bet. I hope your creative output continues to grow, and I look forward to reading your stuff! I appreciate the dialogue, too! Easy to find around a university. Pretty scarce here in a small mountain town.
I think I told you that I admired the word combination you used in your comment on the Hippocampus piece “Coyote Fence.” The combination of words you used was “transcendent arc.” I liked your words so much that I used them myself just the other day in writing a paragraph about my father, and fishing:
“Now, nearly thirty years after his death, I remember my father on those vacations. In the early 1960’s, then, he would have been forty years old. He liked to wear blue work shirts, and faded denim jeans, a cowboy hat with an owl wing feather he had found tucked into the hatband. He smoked a pipe, and now whenever I smell the aroma of Bond Street pipe tobacco, I remember him. I liked to watch him walk out into the river in his rubber waders and begin to cast. There is a beauty of movement in fly fishing, as if it were a dance, and my father’s dance with the water was a pleasure to watch. His fly rod was a delicate instrument, rising in a kind of transcendent arc, then moving forward again. The line would move in seemingly weightless loops, never getting tangled. And the fly would barely dimple the water when it landed, just like a natural insect. That was my father at his best.”
Oh, very nice, John! I’m such a big fan of the writing of Norman MacLean, and your writing here evokes A River Runs Through It–not just because of the fly fishing actions, but because it relates to memory and time and the mementos that embody our loved ones.
I think Mrs. Billings was cruel to do what she did. Unfortunately, public schools in the United States are not especially friendly places for anyone who is different, who is unique, who does not fit the cultural norm. Happily, it is these same people, if they are able to survive public schools, who sometimes prove themselves to be truly visionary, who bring special gifts of insight, art, music, literature, understanding and compassion to this world as no one else can. I think you must be one of these special people, to have survived, and to be sharing your special gifts in ways like writing this short memoir. I am fascinated by other cultures, and I must confess largely ignorant of Indian culture, as most Americans are. I had to Google the word “mandap” and the acronym “ABCD” to understand the title of the memoir cited in your short biography. I look forward to reading anything further you might care to share, either in Hippocampus or elsewhere! This was a great read from a unique perspective!
I guess I have more to say about this piece. What makes good writing great? Hemingway said it was something called “true-felt emotion.” I find that here, in this memoir and poetry. I have been reading this e-mag (Hippocampus) for about a year now, since I first found it, and what you wrote here is among the finest things I have read so far. Maybe it is the finest. All I can say is “wow.” This knocked my socks off.
Wonderful poetry, John–made all the more poignant by the prose you wrote before these ending lines of verse. Like the ring-setting sometimes can make a diamond sparkle in the light all the more beautifully.
I like the hat, Thomas.
A further question about composition: do you keep a journal? Did you write this from a journal? The richness of detail and the strictly linear progression of time suggest that. How else could you have remembered everything?
Thank you for this. Exactly what I needed to read.
Comments like these make me happy.
Hey! I LIKE Eva Cassidy. Skip the earlier releases. Go straight for “The Best of Eva Cassidy”, which skims the cream off all the early milk. My favorite is her take on Buffy St. Marie’s “Tall Trees in Georgia”, but I also love her versions of Sting’s “Fields of Gold” and Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World.” But everything on this CD is good in its own right.
Caroline–
I have a lot to say about this piece, so bear with me. I will try to be as brief as possible and still say what I need to say.
First of all, I would like to comment on journal-keeping. I used to keep extensive journals. Plural. I kept journals because writing and literature instructors thought journal-keeping was a valuable experience. I was never really open in those journals because I knew other people would be reading them. In those journals I wrote about writing and reading. I had no qualms about trashing those journals as soon as each class was over. My personal journals, which I wrote concurrently with the others, and wrote also when I wasn’t taking classes, and even before and after I was a university student, were a lot more honest. Finally, I stopped writing them. It took me a long time to make the decision to destroy them all. That was the right decision, I believe still today. My decision to destroy my journals has a lot to do with the quality of my life at the time I was keeping them. I was lonely and isolated, alienated from others, and maybe all my journal-keeping could be condensed into those three adjectives. My journals were a scream, a howl. Yours are not. I can understand why you might like to keep them. It would be good if your children, or your grandchildren, read them. I know that just seeing my grandmother’s or mother’s HANDWRITING so many years after their deaths is a significant experience for me, gives me pause to think and remember. Journal-keeping IS valuable in two senses. 1) It helps you recall the general tenor of your days, and 2) if you are having significant interactions with prominent people or artists who help you think, journals can be historically and artistically valuable. I think about the journals of Anais Nin, for instance, in this sense. Journals can help you clarify thought. Many writers draw extensively from their journals–they are troves of detail, much of it trivial but some of it significant, that could be forgotten otherwise. So much for what I think about journal keeping.
What I really wanted to say about your piece, “Why I Have Refrained. . . ” is that it doesn’t work for me. Let me first put that into context, and then let me explain why I don’t think it works. The context is this: I haven’t written much for the past forty years. I am just starting to write again. It is wonderful. You are a much more accomplished writer than I have been. And you are good. This is lucid narration. I get a sense of time, of place, of person. I hear the narrator’s voice. What I DON’T get is a sense of what makes these particular happenings wondrous and momentous, what makes them special. There is a richness here that you don’t exploit. Babcia. That is a name that should be loaded with meaning. A Polish heritage that you should be able to make ring for us like a bell. Other than the daily clutter of your grandmother and grandfather’s lives (clutter you are throwing into a dumpster without sentiment) I don’t get a sense of them as people. I don’t hear their voices, I don’t know what was important to them. I kept waiting for you to discover something special, filled with meaning, like a journal Babcia secretly kept that might reveal a lover no one knew about, or an unfulfilled dream. That sort of thing. I wanted you to CONNECT with these people, tell me why they were special, so that I could connect with them and believe they were special too. Instead, I finish the memoir and I am left with nothing but the questions: Why am I reading this? Why did she write it? You don’t answer those questions, and I so very badly want you to answer them!
Good catch, Pamela! But are you sure the sound recording by the Moody Blues quotes the written “Late Lament” exactly? Just kidding. I will accept “Cold-hearted orb.” It is almost as good as “Cruel orb.” The idea is that Eve says “Cool orb” is correct because she has been able to attain some objective distance between herself and Johnny, and the time of the Watergate hearings and Vietnam war. I say “Cruel orb” because I have not been able to attain that objective distance. Vietnam is still as much a part of me today as it was in the 1970’s. The year before I joined the army, I was taking part in anti-war protests on the CSU campus. CSU wasn’t Kent State, but a lot of us had stayed up late into the night to watch Old Main burn down as part of the violence that was sweeping the country at the time. By the way, and off-topic, I just read your “Stitching the Womb”, which I thought was very fine. I left a comment.
One of the most interesting things to me about this discussion is that (I think, based on the names and responses) only women have commented so far. Believe me, men face the same societal pressures to have children as women do. Maybe the pressures aren’t quite as forceful, but pressures are there just the same. A supposed friend made the off-the-cuff observation in a recent e-mail that “You can’t be a complete person until you have had children. They teach you so much about unconditional love.” I kid you not. This guy has a master’s degree, and has published fiction and non-fiction books. He knew that I have no children when he wrote that phrase down. It is a societal prejudice, as ugly as racism. There is a similar societal pressure to marry. Single people as they start to get older begin to more acutely feel that pressure. I know. I didn’t marry until I was 45. Some people actually believe that your life doesn’t begin, or count for much, until you have married, and fathered or mothered children. When I married at 45, I did the math and realized when I would be 60 years old, any child I might father would be entering the tempestuous teens. I remembered how awful my teenage years had been–aggravated by the “generation gap” that existed at the time I grew up, the Vietnam era–and understood right away that disciplining a rebellious, mouthy teen-ager right before I began to draw my social security check was not a good recipe for serenity in old age. Perhaps that decision was not fair to my wife, 10 years younger and from a family of 8 kids. But I understood I was not a good candidate for fatherhood. My own childhood had been anything but happy. My father and mother remained married, but basically I was raised by my mother. My father was there in body, but not in spirit. He was vacant, distant, absent. He had been abandoned, his whole family had been abandoned, by his own father, who had divorced his mother at a time when divorce wasn’t common, and married the mistress with whom he had fathered a son (half-brother to my father). As a result, my father had no strong father-figure in his life, and neither did I. It was time to break that cycle of neglect. I think in our society a lot of people have kids who don’t really want them for the right reasons, and aren’t really suited for fatherhood or motherhood. The sad thing is, some people who ARE suited, and want kids for all the right reasons, aren’t able to have them. Is it God who decides this? Fate? Luck? I don’t know. I only know that every human life is valuable, that all of us have something to give the world. I am grateful I am starting to write again, for instance. Creation is the same, whether it comes from the womb or the heart and mind. Giving hope. Sharing. Being human. That is a gift all of us can offer others.
John, I am THRILLED that you responded, and what an interesting observation you make about my responses (someone has keen perception) being more craft than idea oriented. You are absolutely right. I didn’t want to sway any reader as to the intentions of this piece. It is important to me, in all my work to date, that I connect to a universal, fluid human experience, rather than something specific. Yes, I take on my own grappling with infertility and childnessness, but I didn’t want this to be my “pity party” so to speak. I wanted to simply examine the experience and allow the read to resonate for different people (of both genders) in different ways. I am so thrilled to have a male read this so thoughtfully, and to emerge with your own personal insights. It has made my day, actually. It is fascinating that you and I share a heart-punch with this experience, a friend stating: “You can’t be a complete person until you have had children. They teach you so much about unconditional love.” — so here we see that sometimes we share more in life with common experience and outcomes, than common gender. Thank you so much for reading my work.
Yes, Pamela, I do think we are a lot alike in many ways. I would say we are “trying to write” (kind of like “practicing medicine”–when do you stop “practicing” and when do you start doing it for real? when do writers stop “trying to write” and simply write?), but I suppose as old as I am, I might as well just say we are writers. Both English majors. Readers and writers and critics of our own work and the works of others. I am glad that you took my comments so well, and as they were intended. Though our biographies can’t help but come into play, it is always the writing we are talkiing about, because that is what is most important, the product and not the person who makes the product. When we criticize what we think is bad writing, and when we praise what we think is good writing, it is always the writing that is under discussion, not the person. And the end we desire is improving the writing. That is what we are after. Making each other better writers. I used to be a runner. It took me a long time to understand that I wasn’t competing against my fellow racers. Instead, I was helping them to be better runners, and they were helping me. We were compadres, we were amigos in the great fellowship of sport. I have read one piece of yours, though I have read many of your fine comments (“transcendent arc” you wrote–what a wonderful phrase and choice of words!). If you would like to read a piece of mine in Hippocampus, I have one in the July 2013 travel theme issue called “Silent Night, Firelight.” It is the first, in fact the only, piece of writing I have published in 40 years. I also am a character in another memoir that appeared in the April 2013 Issue of Hippocampus, “First Crossing, Nogales 1971” by Robert Richter. In his piece, Richter calls me “The Poet Redmond.” In my piece, I call Richter simply “B.” We went to high school together, and then Colorado State University, from which we both graduated. Worked on the campus literary magazine together. Now, Hippocampus kind of guys. I need to publish more. That is one of my goals. It has been good getting to know you, and I hope we stay in touch!
Sorry it has taken me so long to respond. Yes, I know cancer. And my father fell just like yours. My mother was alone with him at the time. He was still at home, in his bedroom, though we later moved his bed to the living room where there was a big window he could look out. When my father fell, my mother could not get him up herself, and called me. I was fifteen minutes away. When I got there, I saw mother had covered him with a blanket so he would not be cold. She had given him a pillow to prop up his head. He was skin and bone, like your dad. I picked him up easily and put him back to bed, and we gave him supper on a bed tray. It is hard to watch them go, but we can be proud of the brave way they faced the end. Genki. Yes. Your dad had not lost it. It was just a little deeper inside. You were right to take your children. They needed to see, to understand when they are more able and older, how brave your father was being, so they can be brave too when they need to be brave. I am sorry for your loss. Three days after his funeral you wrote this? Straight from the heart. This is wonderful, raw, honest. I can assure you that time does heal, even though you never forget. We really don’t want to forget. We need to remember, so that we value every precious day all the more. We need to keep in mind what is truly important, and not get caught up in the petty details. I am glad that I got to know your father throught the words of your memoir. Thank you. Yes, written in bone, and in blood, with love.
This is a bittersweet piece that so many of us with aging parents can relate to. I’m sharing on my FB wall.
This is a wonderful, layered piece that packs an unexpected final punch. What does our time on earth mean? How wrecked can we become by age 29? What, from our past, emerges with significance?
I recall the Watergate hearings, but I was adolescent and unaware of the historical magnitude.
I have to correct you both, having loved the song Nights in White Satin, and checking this to be sure … the lyric is this:” Cold hearted orb that rules the night, removes the colors from our sight, red is grey and yellow white but we decide which is right, and which is an illusion.” The poem is called “Late Lament,” and a quick Google search will confirm this.
Oh my gosh, I LOVE this, Darrelyn!
Thanks, Cynthia. I’m so glad you enjoyed.
Sorry I am so late in joining this discussion. I just realized I have something to say. The interface between the wild and tame in nature has a lot to teach us about the world, and about ourselves. I have lived in the country or the mountains most of my life, but a couple of steps toward the wilder side than most. On our acreage in the Wet Mountains in Colorado, I have seen deer, elk, antelope and bears right from our windows. Most Colorado big game animals are here, and the big predators, too. When I take my dog outside for “last call” at night, I go armed. On our walks we have sometimes found mountain lion and coyote-killed deer in the area, and we often find lion and bear tracks. Coyotes are common. Rattlesnakes live here, too, and they have bitten both horses and people I know. The couple who owned this house before my wife and I had their little dog killed by a snake. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t love it though, love the wild around me and in me, too. Once my dog and I were descending the rocky bluff behind our house. From the other side of a boulder about twenty-five feet away, a big blur suddenly erupted, then was gone. I couldn’t believe something that big could move that fast. To figure out what it was, my mind had to process the moving silhouette for a second. It finally decided “bear”. I looked up the hillside, and there it was, about forty yards away. It had sat down on its haunches. I could see its ears, its little blackberry eyes. I could see its teeth. It seemed to be laughing and smiling at me like a jolly old soul. Yet in the same general area my dog and I had also found scraps of bone and hide from recently killed fawns. The wild is wild. The tame is tame, and it is a good thing, sometimes, that we have coyote fences!
What a great group of stories. Jackie Davis Martin, your exquisite recount of that painful moment broke my heart. Karen Zey, loved how you took the prompt in such a different and interesting direction.
This is a wonderfully intimate glimpse into a world I know so little about! Thank you for sharing and helping me gain at least a smidgeon of understanding. Wow. You have been publishing a lot. Congratulations on your many accomplishments. One of your gifts is an ability to explain in a comprehensible manner our great complexities of emotions and feelings as human beings.
Rooster Cogburn collapses to his knees. He understands he cannot carry the uncouscious Mattie Ross another step. Mattie has been bitten by a rattlesnake, and will eventually lose her arm from the elbow down. If Rooster hadn’t made the effort he made, she would have lost her life as well. Rooster has already ridden Mattie’s magnificent horse, Blackie, through the afternoon and night until the horse could go no further. And now he too is done for. He has carried Mattie to within a hundred yards of a remote trading post in the tribal territories of the Winding Stair Mountains (God, how could anyplace on this earth have such a beautiful name?) and all he can do now is shoot his pistol into the air, hoping someone will hear the shot and come to help. He shoots. In the distance, a light comes on in the trading post. Rooster sees the light, and knows someone will come. He heaves a sigh, knowing he has done all he could. But he makes a simple observation, realizing that as a younger man he might have been able to carry Mattie all the way. “I am grown old,” he says.
Reading this, and reading the responses others have left, I guess that is what I have to say too.
Loved this: counterfeit, Red, and Daddy. So glad you are heading in the direction of memoir. What powerful stories you will tell with just the right touch of yearning. Great child voice. I was absolutely there with you.
Thank you so much, Shirley. High time I join you and Richard on the shelf. Hope things are going weil with your book. When things slow down (after my middle son’s wedding later this month), we need to catch up.
That will be great. All best with the wedding!
I love this! It was like a movie in my mind. Complete visualization of the moment! I want more!! 🙂
Thank you, Krista. That’s so nice to hear.
OK, you win. You’re childhood was officially crazier than mine. Maybe it’s a requirement that all writers seem to have had dysfunctional families. Glad you’re back at the keyboard again. Missed you.
Hey Barbara, Yep, my childhood was crazy but so full of great characters. There were times when I’d wish for normal. But then I grew up and realized there’s no such thing. 🙂 I’ve missed you, too.
So heartfelt and lovely, Anne. I hope you enjoy every moment with your Dad.
So evocative of time, place, person. I was there, too–in that era, I mean. I had joined the army only a few days after Nixon’s election for a second term. In advanced training a few months later, I had a buddy who would pick up a copy of the Wall Street Journal each day. It wasn’t the Washington Post, but we still followed the news. Then, after I had been at my permanent duty station for a while, Watergate became a tv event and we brought a small black and white into the office where I worked. It was important to us because Nixon’s policy of “peace with honor” was keeping our nation mired in the increasingly ugly war. That war scarred so many of my friends–military and civilian alike–if it didn’t kill them outright. I am still uncertain which was the preferable outcome. After Nixon resigned, Gerald Ford had the courage to begin the pullout, and the Watergate hearing we had watched on tv became replaced by images of helicopters being pushed into the sea from the decks of aircraft carriers. Who can forget the chaotic film vignette of that last evacuation helicopter taking off from the roof of the U.S. embassy in Saigon? Thank you for writing about something that matters! Like it or not, those times helped define the rest of our lives for some of us.
Wow, this was totally relatable. I absolutely loved it!
Beautifully written, Mrs. Darrelyn. Thank you for sharing your story.
My pleasure, Charlotte. Thank you for reading.
Poignant, tender and funny. I love the way it’s written with the simplicity of a child’s world view. Well done Darrelyn.
Thanks for stopping by, Sally. So glad you enjoyed.
Very nice, Darrelyn. I enjoyed reading this. You’ve expressed so much with so much heart in so few words, it leaves the reader with a compulsion for more.
Thanks, Cyd. I’m glad to hear it because I’m writing more.
What a brilliant piece of creative nonfiction. I hope your Daddy found you, Darrelyn. And we will get to read about your reunion.
Thanks, Jenny. That’s so kind of you to say.
Fantastic. I was hooked immediately by the humor delivered through your childhood point of view. Difficult and impressive work.
It’s been quite a journey to discover that little girl’s words. Now she won’t stop talking. Please know we are both thrilled you enjoyed. Thanks for reading and taking the time to comment.
Sweet short! I love reading from your perspective as a little girl.
Thanks, Jessica.
Great piece. I both love and hate the vulnerability. Congratulations!
I really enjoyed this story. I have two friends from Guatemala and they always talked about how tough it was growing up there in the 1980s. I feel like I’m able to understand what they went through a little better after reading your story.
I liked this piece a lot, but I’d love to see it extended! Any plans to do so in the future?
That’s the one bittersweet thing about flash! Perfectly self-contained stories, and, when done well, we get attached to characters and want to know what happens next! Then again, epics like The Hobbit still leave me wanting more! 🙂
Agreed., well done, intimate slice of life. Enjoyed reading this.
I loved this line: “At a family gathering, in my own extended family, to which I presumably belong, painful efforts are made to include me.” It was very funny and relatable. You have a nice voice throughout that is casual/conversational without being too much so, allowing readers to relate while still feeling put together.
Overall a very well done piece. I enjoyed reading it.
The length really works for this piece. I also loved the last line–it’s very honest emotionally.
i loved this! well-written and relatable
Beautiful, succinct, writing … I loved this piece, Betty Jo.
I am so impressed with this piece. Such a simple topic, really, that of wild and tame, fear and courage. One so many of us living in the “sylvan” areas of suburban So CA may have experienced, yet you elevated every segment of your journey with elegant writing and a mythical, transcendent arc. I loved this piece. Absolutely loved it!
Oh, and I shared twice! 😉
Great story. I, too, had an interesting childhood when it came to sleeping. I was freaked out after watching the movie “Candyman,” and the only thing that made me feel better was the television set in my room.
I am so proud of you sweetheart..I have always loved you even since you were a small child
Such COURAGE!! Thank you for sharing and I can’t wait to read more of your work!
Right on, Brother Carlo. Right on! And ‘Write On!’ :0)
Deeply felt and meaningful!
Omygosh Conor, you made me laugh like crazy. You’re a great writer.
Our bodies remember as to remind our brains. Wonderful insight and truth.
Excellent work, bravo!
Powerful and so true had surgery myself in Dec and was afraid to take any of the meds they gave me for pain. didn’t know if it was the pain or my wanting to use. Thank God for healthy fear
When I experience a euphoric recall type reaction by simply reading, I am experiencing the epitome of writing. Well done, well done.
The power of story. Yours took me back to my adolescent, ill conceived shot with a BB gun on a luckless squirrel. I didn’t shoot a firearm again for another fourty years, until I took up deer hunting. The power of death, and the tools that bring it, is now never lost on me; whether the tool is a firearm, my bow and arrow, a fishing pole or the mousetrap that I just set. The tool is just the tool; the real power and real responsibility is always at our fingertips.
Awesome! You are truly a strong person and wonderful writer. Wonderful for you to share.
Beautifully written and so brave!
Fabulous read! You swept me right along from the first sentence. Animals have so much to teach us. Your dog in this piece portrayed as just as much an individual character as you are. Good work!
Thanks so much, Jayne!
@injaynesworld:disqus
What a powerfully poignant work. I love how you’ve used your mother’s hands to tell the story of who she was as compared to what she has become, and then made the physical connection to her through your own hands. Lovely way you bring the story full circle with the meticulous filling of the morphine bottles as your coping mechanism. This is an exquisite piece of writing. I also say, bravo!
Thank you for your kind comments, Jayne:)
Wonderful! Thank you so much for writing this!
Beautiful and haunting story and so well crafted! Bravo!!
Thank You!
Loved this! Thank you Lindsay!
Thank you for taking the time to read, @cathy_bell:disqus!
Insightful, Carl. Great piece.
Is the prompt as worded above? Or is it as was distributed via e-mail? I mean, the placement of the word “immediately.”
I immediately regretted putting it in my mouth???????? Oy Vey?
Submissions don’t need to include prompt verbatim. It’s just meant to stir a memory. So if you ate or drank or tasted (or hid!) something you wish you hadn’t, share your story. 🙂
I don’t know what your talking about with these bad habits of mine to pass on to our children…what bad habits? Haha! I love reading your writing because you are so careful and meticulous in how you write to make it just right. Your choice of words and the order in which they come conjure of some of the most amazing images in my mind! I know that it is scary to put your thoughts to “paper” as it were, but the results are fantastic, and I know that you will get your book published!
Thanks for this, and for putting up with me. 🙂
Is the word “in” missing in the prompt above??
Not anymore, thanks to your eagle eye! Thanks for letting us know. See, we regretted putting it in our mouth so much that we couldn’t even type the word “in”!
😀
Love the one-two punch of fear and fantasy. Fear is such a rich source of inspiration. Glad to know I’m not the only one who see the vacuum as a weapon to be used against frightful monsters.
Never underestimate the vacuum or the story — thanks Kathryn.
Huh. I happen to be avoiding doing the work right now. Today. At this moment. And I can clearly see that my fear is at the root of it. And, thanks to you, I can now see that being afraid all day is worse than actually doing it. Thanks! Wishing you a summer free of earwigs, Lisa!
Our writing lives are running parallel again! Thanks Vaughn.
Yes, beautiful essay. You have written this with power and gentleness, precision and purpose. And yet, even while we read, it is apparent that something painful must be ignored in order to read these difficult details. The way you come to your own hands at the end is a poignant bookend.
Thanks, Laura.
Pamela, I love humor, but I’m speaking now from utter seriousness. My sister was married at 21 and could not conceive for 10 yrs. She got on her knees and prayed. and believed God for a baby. She had four in a row. I met another woman who had been to many doctors and had many different treatments to no avail. I was there when she was prayed for. In exactly 9 months from that prayer, she had a little girl. Have you tried prayer? My book, “Miracles, Yours For The Asking” tells it all. You CAN be a mother.
Lucille, thank you so much for reading my piece. Your advice and care is sweet, and trust me, I prayed my heart out. But I’m actually past the years of child-bearing now. I have come to terms with the sadness, and decided that there was another plan in mind for me. If I’d had children, I very much doubt that I’d have gone back to school, got that degree, and discovered how much of a passion writing is for me. I was able to spend an entire summer in Europe and see something of the world. I still mourn the lack that childlessness brought–but I have come to a place where I can contextualize it. There is another REALLY beautiful memoir piece called End of the Line written by Rachel Hall that is a complete sister piece to mine! It also conveys the pain and beauty of these things in life for which we have no control.
God doesn’t leave us with nothing at all. You are a sensitive person and a good writer. .
Thank you so much, Lucille!
Wow! What an account of the blurring boundries between man and the wild ! Enjoyed reading this !
Thanks, @maitreyee_joshi:disqus! I’m so happy you read the piece!
“…that hard-to-define but universal thrift store scent. I imagine it’s what my stepfather’s pocket comb smelled like.” That there is brilliance.
Thank you very kindly.
What a strange strange place perfectly captured in its polite oddballness.
Carlo – A great piece! We grew up together in Edenwald and I, too went to Al’s for my haircuts.
Wonderful piece. I enjoyed reading it!
What a powerful essay, concise and stunning. I love this line in particular, “The long tapered fingers that smoothed and tucked, that conducted the orchestra of our days, trail aimlessly in the air, pointing toward something only she can see.” The shift to your own hands at the end ties everything together so well.
Thank you, Lisa.
Lisa: I would like use your comment as a chance to make a case for longer memoirs. Don’t get me wrong, I agree with you that “Hands” is stunning and exquisitely crafted, very powerful and moving. This, I think, is what readers nowadays call “flash”. To me, it is so well-written I would call it a “prose poem.” To me, poetry is defined by the use of words in such a way that each one carries a much greater freight of meaning than the words we use in everyday conversation. That is certainly true with this piece. This is pictorial: like looking through a camera lens, we get a glimpse of something much bigger and more complicated beyond the limits of the lens, beyond the borders of the photo. There is another kind of memoir, though, one that is equally valid as an expression of art, I believe. This form of memoir is longer because it must involve change. It is not photographic. It is fluid. I think this form of memoir mirrors the techniques of fiction in some ways: the writer shows us the way something is, and then that something changes in a profound way to become different. There is no acceptable word for this change in English. “Resolution” doesn’t cut it. The French call it “denouement.” James Joyce twisted the meaning of the change he wrote about into something a little different he called “epiphany,” a sudden realization. To show you what I mean, I would like to cite another shorter Hippocampus memoir that appeared in the July 2013 issue of Hippocampus, “Blue Eyes at the Wheel,” by Anthony J. Mohr. Mohr starts out his memoir with uncertainty about his stepfather. He feels loyalty to his real father, who was an actor. He feels his stepfather is strictly a suit and tie kind of guy who plays by the rules. His stepfather, by ignoring a traffic rule, proves to Anthony that he is a pretty cool kind of person after all. That realization on Anthony’s part is epiphany. It is denouement. Sometimes plots that involve change take more words to express than pictorial type memoirs. Thinking every memoir has to be absolutely minimalist, I think, is unrealistic. Maybe I am old fashioned, but even today I would much rather listen to a piece of music by Aaron Copland than one by Philip Glass.
Hi John, I love the wealth of ideas in your comment. Sounds like the beginning of an essay? Thanks for the perspective. All Best, lisa
You are such a kind soul, Lisa. I looked back through the archive of your comments, and I couldn’t find a single one that wasn’t positive and encouraging. I am sure you know the phrase “Be the change you would like to see in the world.” I think that phrase perfectly describes you. I would like to congratulate you for being up to the challenge of home schooling your children. After going through public schools myself, I have very little that is good to say about them. Horrible! And now they seem to have become magnets, drawing deeply distrubed individuals who want to inflict hurt on the whole world. All best to you, Lisa. All best!
My goodness, you’ve made my day! 🙂
Powerful! I realized after I had finished that I held my breath through most of the essay. You had me there. I was feeling it, too. Well done!
This piece is riveting, so much so, that I don’t want it to end. Beautifully done, and so honest. Thank you for sharing something personal, and provoking. Loved it!
Awesome piece.
Very clever piece! I’m glad to have stumbled upon it!
Beautiful, Laura, just beautiful. No, speaking to them after they are gone is never the same.
Very poignant essay, Jules. I, too, have a thing about losing the stories because my loved ones died. Why didn’t I go through every memory with every loved one and write them all down? Impossible, but it is true that the moments of missing our loved ones come in the moments we wouldn’t expect. Beautifully done.
Oh, Lisa … this is BRILLIANT. I once wrote a post about cats vs. dogs as the preferred writing pet (50/50 split on the reader survey), but you’ve encapsulated all that I feel right here — and with such eloquence. This is why I tolerate the cat-butt in my face as I type, the extra lines of inserted gibberish from paws over the keyboard, the distracting antics as the two cats square off with arched backs before playful pouncing, etc. I’m going to take some lessons from my two cats, which you’ve noted with such beauty: I am going to claim my square of sunshine today because, unlike the cat and its uncanny fearlessness, I’m licking some rejection wounds. The warmth of that sunlight is a reminder that I need to get right back up and fight the fight.
THAT WAS HILARIOUS!! You are a great storyteller!
Loved reading your gun-ecaiton. My grandfather also had the only rifles I had seen prior to my time in the Marines. Almost every one else in my platoon had fired one before — I had to catch up fast! Your conjuring images brought back memories.
Fascinating character portrait.
It’s nice to read something about guns that is not all in pro guns or all anti guns. I don’t have a problem with people in general having guns, but they scare me too much for me to handle one. I remember my parents had a gun kept under the bed when I was small, and they warned me very effectively that it was powerful, dangerous, and to be avoided no matter what. When I walked into their bedroom, I always walked as far away from their bed as possible.
Amazing. No two people are affected the same way by guns, but no one who encounters them can NOT be affected by them. This is a conversation that is long overdue.
Hi Jim — so happy to read this here! As with your other captivating essays, I love the rich details, the bits and pieces that make the experience — your experience — really come alive. Bravo! And, to tell the truth, NaNo scares the stuffing out of me. Too much pressure!!! Like you, I have to marinate. And find napkins. And naps. Cats help too, right? Cheers!
I’m ready to read more
Do you get it? It’s all one big cliff hanger!
I love this. Yours is the first thing I’ve read on hippocampus, and it could have been taken from my journal, if I had had time to write one when I had infants in car seats. My death wish is maybe stronger (and recurrent and fried out of me by ECT a few times) but my wish would have come true by now without my children’s souls to counterbalance it. Lovely: thank you.
So fresh. So new. So Needed at this point in my life. This author is amazing.
This is great. Well written and very enjoyable! I have always thought that cats were writers’ best friends. At the very least they guard your doorway while you work and wake you up with a butt in the face to get you to your desk.
Ms. Tyrrell does an amazing job
portraying illness so outsiders can understand a snippet of what it’s like. The
storytelling is nicely done with fluid shifts between second-person and
first-person narrative. She meshes pain with self-discovery through vivid
imagery, and you can’t help but take the journey with her. Can’t wait to read
more nonfiction from her.
We are in love with the idea of motherhood. Children are so adorable—but for such a short time. When my son was 14, about the time of his first zit, I was in such an exhausted state dealing with him, I heard myself say to my friend, “Is it too late for an abortion?” I also lost a good friend during this time period. She called me up and said, “My son has run away from home,” and without thinking, I said, “Some people have all the luck.” But I have to admit, all the time before the hurricane years was a joy. (At least that’s what I keep telling myself.)
Thank you for reading this piece and responding with such humor, Lucille! Hearing people’s thoughts on my work means so much to me.
What a fabulous tribute to felines! I am allergic so can’t have any of my own but I certainly enjoy watching the antics of my daughter’s two kitties via Facebook photos. I love how you have taken their behavior and related it to the creative writing life. So many lessons to be learned.
Love it, love it! I’ve always been a cat lover, but was not allowed to keep cats as a child (other than feeding random strays) because my mother didn’t fancy having her house ruined. Then we kept moving around. But as of last week I’ve adopted a lovely, sweet-tempered adult female… or should I say she owns me? And she seems keen to sit on my and dictate the latest revisions to my WIP.
Amazing how you take our kittens behaviors and relate them to writing! Love it! Those kittens do rule our house! I’ll have to be more observant and see what the cats can teach me!
Thank you, Medea. I’m grateful that it resonated.
At our local SPCA, there are two sections, an adoption center for cats and one for dogs. The dogs spend 23 1/2 hours a day in a kennel alone or with a dog or two or three… depending on the social behavior. The cats however, stay in an air conditioned room, filled with toys, things to climb, and a wonderful 7 foot high clear cylinder that runs the a/c room to and large caged in play room, with more toys and items to keep them curious and content.
One day, walking under the cross way, i looked up to see a large orange cat standing ” guard” in the middle of the cylinder; not allowing other cats to cross over either way. Each time a cat tried, the orange monster ran it back. I watched this for several minutes. Thinking it was unfair, especially in keeping cats in the play room from returning to the cool air conditioned presidential suite, i reached up and tapped the cylinder directly underneath the culprit
You got it; the guard cat looked down at me with distain, and went back to running off “intruders” from either direction.
There is so much truth in your writing. Having both cats and dogs I found myself nodding in agreement as each line unfolded. Oh to be like a cat . . . I’ve got the napping part down but I think I need to work on the rest. Loved this so much.
Perfect.
I realized that I commented on your blog, but never directly here. I’ve just reread this beautiful essay as I struggle to give context to a new piece I’m waiting for. This entire piece sings, Cathy, but the ending is so artful in the way it finishes, rather than ties up, the musing. This time, the tears welled. I love it maybe even more for having reread and studied the craft.
Oh, Pamela, you are so sweet and amazing. Sorry I didn’t see this sooner. Your comments touch me and your support has been wonderful. You reached out and now we are long-distance writer buddies and that means the world to me. I’m so glad to know you and read your writing as well. You really to inspire me.
You are my CNF sistah from anutha mutha! The pleasure is all mine!
I very much enjoyed this style, pace, humor and pathos of this piece!
What a pleasure to read! The difference in cultures has always fascinated me and your ability to express your experiences truly made me feel as if I was there with you. Thank you for dedicating so much of your life to unconditionally loving children of all cultures and walks. The gifts of good teaching live on in the lives of students far beyond their school age years. Blessings on you!
Love the piece!
I’d love to see this as a short film! Great story.
Thanks!
I Thoroughly enjoyed this short story; I just wish it was longer. The emotions that evolved from the heroine, were heartwarming, then heart rendering! The concise, and generous details captured me; I felt I was there.
Beautifully written and so fun to read!
Thanks…I am especially glad that you liked it haha.
So well written! Very captivating!! Great job Krystal!
Thanks so much! 🙂
Loved it!! I got nervous for that tiny little girl! exciting and so much emotion- great work!
Thanks! Tell Annie she should keep up the work at gymnastics…you never know when you’ll get stuck in a snow bank. 🙂
I will murder this snow!! Great story Krystal 🙂 how did your parents feel about your near death experience??
Haha! Thanks Colleen. My mom said, “I always wondered what happened to that mitten!” 🙂
Love it! Great story!
Thanks, glad you liked it!
SOOO Great! Hadley is fascinated and wants to know where she can get more of this author? Looks like this 9 year will be following your
blog along with me. xoxo
9 year old