Growing Up with Weapons
When I was five years old I was made to follow my daddy around acres of hedgerows, up and over levees,...
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A Real Boy
I woke up feeling drowsy and stiff and instantly felt Papa chipping away at me, a little at a time. I tried...
A Musician’s Tools
I have on the wall in my therapy office an old African detergent can with a cruddy piece of stick coming out...
Carrying on the Tradition
Dear Wonderful Readers, I thought for my first entry I would go back to my very earliest writings as a...
After the Cold War
My parents were secret agents. I’m not kidding. But the cold war is over now and the secrets can...
Mr. Fish
I really feel for mothers, especially for those who have created a brood of young needy ones. It is hard to...