Exquisite Corpse

Sex education was controversial in my small town. Eventually it was decided that we Grade Sixes would receive a single morning of instruct...

In the silence after the argument—with miles to go before they reached home—Grace death-gripped the steering wheel and stared at the road, i...

My man came into my life a few years ago.      I first met him in Burlington. It was a long haul there, but I was told he was a “licker”—s...

Hail to the bus driver Bus driver Bus driver Hail to bus driver Bus driver man . . . . . . who’d put up with us for all of the 280 miles to ...

I recently joined a Facebook page dedicated to my grade school. I did a deep dive until I landed on a group picture, circa 1975, of some o...

For my parents’ fiftieth anniversary, we sons banded together to buy them a trip anywhere they wanted to go. They’d already travelled a lot ...

On the cusp of adulthood, one Friday in the 1950s, Dad, with his Elvis pompadour, left work and picked up his brother Alan. They drove all n...