Children

  • Blacks and Whites Don’t Mix

    The sins of the father are visited upon the children. Continue reading

    Blacks and Whites Don’t Mix
  • Maternal Pop-ups — Part Two

    What do you do when your dead mother pops up? Look away? Continue reading

    Maternal Pop-ups — Part Two
  • Maternal Pop-ups — Part One

    What do you do when your dead mother pops-up? Pay attention? Continue reading

    Maternal Pop-ups — Part One
  • Years of the Cicadas

    For decades, the appearance of the 17-year cicadas was my life metaphor. Then I saw the light. Continue reading

    Years of the Cicadas
  • Succumbing to a Broken Heart

    Losing a child to suicide is unbearable. It is a heartache no one can heal. Continue reading

    Succumbing to a Broken Heart
  • My Ancient Virus

    “My memory has something to say about the way trauma has altered my body’s DNA, like an ancient virus,” writes Carmen Maria Machado in her recently published memoir, In the Dream House, an account of a lover’s psychological abuse. “Dream… Continue reading

    My Ancient Virus
  • Love as Strong as An Ox

    HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY! What’s it like to make your way through life with someone? Roz Chast has quite a unique perspective . . . Last week, my beloved high school friend, Wendy sent me the following Roz Chast perspective from… Continue reading

    Love as Strong as An Ox
  • My Starter Home — Three Decades Later

    Thirty years ago today, I moved into what I assumed would be my “starter” home — an 820-square-foot house where I’d live for a few years before selling it and using the proceeds to buy a larger house. Three decades… Continue reading

    My Starter Home — Three Decades Later
  • My Absent Father

    I wish I could wake up on Monday mornings — the first day of the work week — without my first thought being, “Fuck you, Jim Seneff.” Seneff is the CEO of the company that employed me as an independent… Continue reading

    My Absent Father
  • Dear Dad

    “I want something from Daddy that he is not able to give me . . . . It is only that I long for Daddy’s real love: not only as his child, but for me — Anne, myself.” — Anne… Continue reading

    Dear Dad