The sun is bearing down on the hitter, Jenny Ryan. Her father runs a software company downtown, doing well, tooRead More
As soon as I got to the ground, she was on me with one question after another.
“Didn’t you smell the smoke?”
“Yes, but not right away.”
“Didn’t you see the fire?”
We were not yet married a year when we touched down in the fall of 1972 in Dhahran, Saudi Arabia. We were in debt and we were pregnant. A baby in the new year in Saudi Arabia! How exotic! How full of problems our lives would become! But we didn’t know it that Christmas. We were young, in love, and open to the future. Marilynn would look after the baby. I would teach...Read More
Uncle Freddie was less than five feet tall; his wife, Carmella, was even shorter.Read More
There were puddles on the dirt path to the yogwan where we would spend the night. I tried to keep the mud off my shoes. Morgan could have cared less about the mud. Her eyes were on what was ahead. I felt guilty. Even though I was high, the Catholic in me inventoried the sins I’d committed and was about to commit. At the front desk, an ajumoni – hair dyed jet...Read More