Tales from My Father: On Prayer and Two Old Women, One with Blue Hair

steeple - macmoov

  As pastor’s kids (there were three of us—the “pretty” one, the “good” one, and “the one who put up Kiss posters”—I’ll leave you to guess which one I was), we enjoyed a certain amount of both notoriety and adulation, depending on who the observer was. As a little one, I remember weaving in and [Read More...]

Relics Writ Small

At home in my dresser upstairs I have a wee yellow sock, about four inches long. Just one. Downstairs I have a drawer in the laundry room full of single socks, which, despite my husband’s indictment, do not lose their partners through any collusion on my part. Those socks are casualties of clothes-basket subterfuge, a [Read More...]


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