Mom was a closet divorcée so to shield me from the awkward truth, she eradicated any trace of documentation linking her to her ex-husband, Barney the Beelzebub. There were no wedding albums, no annulment papers no mementos of any kind. Even her marriage license to dad had been strategically Exacto-knifed. Once I found a photograph of her and some coot pulling pints. She blanched when I asked who he was, but instantly recovered, “Just some man who let me behind the bar for a picture.” It was a rather uninteresting dive so I didn’t pursue it. Probably just as well.
Mei' Autozzhe' un' isch! - A week of vibrancy. The carousel was closed (who has ever heard of such a thing?!). A small boy and I pressed our noses up against the glass. We discussed ...
5 days ago