Mountains Older than Bones On Wednesday, we went to Moundsville. “Going to Moundsville” is a slang term for going to jail around the Valley, because they have a historic state prison that’s now a museum. There is an electric chair name Old Sparky, and other things I never want to see, on display for fifteen dollars. But Moundsville also has an ancient Adena burial mound, the grave of at least three prehistoric humans, a much bigger mound than the... Read more
At the end of the world, I went swimming. It wasn’t that I didn’t care about what was going on around me. But I couldn’t think of anything I could do about any of it just that afternoon, so I turned off the computer and put my phone in my purse. I dropped Michael off at work, and Adrienne and I went to the beach, to go swimming. When you live in Northern Appalachia, “going to the beach” means... Read more
I just want to talk about what America has become, these past few months. I have a friend who is, most definitely, an American. She was born here in the United States of America, to citizen parents. She is Caucasian and looks Caucasian, grew up in Michigan and has a Michigan accent. She has several children. They are natural born citizens, but they are Latin. They have dark brown eyes and black hair, and have been to Mexico and... Read more
I came out in the morning, to find the garden a mess. The sandbox was unlidded– apparently, it had been unlidded all night. When the sandbox is left unlidded, Charlie the cat uses it for a litter box. This is especially irksome because she never uses her litter box for a litter box. She does her business in the bushes, unless the sandbox is open. Besides the sandbox being open, the bag of diatomaceous earth I keep to kill the... Read more
Suppose you were the richest man in the world. Suppose you could have and do every single thing that you wanted, with no trouble, because you were the richest man in the world. If it’s physically possible to have, you could have it. Your house is paid off. If you want another house, you can buy it. If you want a house that somebody else is living in, you can offer them a ridiculously high sum of money and... Read more
The rain went on until I thought I’d go mad. Adrienne had her last day of seventh grade, in a gray drizzle. The cat sulked on the porch, glaring at the sloppy overgrown grass. The guinea pig sulked in her cage, because she couldn’t go out to nibble the clover. Jimmy the Mechanic had to put off the repairs and maintenance he’d planned on Sacre Bleu, which meant the air conditioning didn’t work properly, but that hardly mattered because it... Read more
At the end of the world, I got my house ready for a party. I told the Artful Dodgers I was baking cookies in the afternoon. This was the day of the Mandrake’s graduation from preschool, and I wanted to treat them to something. I didn’t have any money to buy her a present, but I had a package of cake mix, and a very good recipe for cake mix cookies with sprinkles. The children promised me they’d be... Read more
I just want to remind you that every choice our government makes has real consequences, for real people. Everybody likes it when I tell stories about the children who live in LaBelle: Jimmy’s boy, the Baker Street Irregulars, the Artful Dodgers. People sometimes wish they could see pictures (which I don’t post publicly, because they’re somebody else’s minor children of course). Once in awhile, somebody mails me clothes or another little gift for one of them. You should know that,... Read more
I woke up anxious as ever. The day might come when I don’t immediately panic and pray to God not to hurt me when I open my eyes. But I don’t expect that day any time soon. Morning is when I rocket back into consciousness and panic that I’m going to hell. Jesus, please be patient. I’m doing my best. Please don’t hurt me. With the morning petitions finished, I stumbled down to get my coffee. Charlie the cat’s breakfast... Read more
There was a knock at the door. I was lying on the sofa, putting off getting ready for Mass, because I was anxious. But I was even more anxious when I heard the knock. It was so hard and insistent that I ran to the door, thinking it must be the police. But it was the Artful Dodger with his sister, the middle child, the one who’s tall and skinny like a sylph. Jimmy’s Boy was with them. Charlie the... Read more
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