My thrift store adventures began in 1975 at the downtown Goodwill in Colorado Springs. My father took me often where I found many wonderful treasures, many of which annoyed my mom. My dad would buy me dirty teddy bears and dolls with matted hair. Whatever piece of junk I couldn’t bear to leave behind. Just […]
Letters From My Father
I did the unthinkable today. I went down to the basement and brought up a large bin of letters my father wrote me after I left home for college. I sat on the couch and opened it up and began to read some of the letters. Then, I remembered why this box more than any […]
My Father’s Post Office
My father wasn’t *that* kind of poet – you know – the kind that rhymes “love” with “above” or “reason” with “season.” He was the kind of poet who spent hours on end – days even – perfecting, studying the French sonnet. He was every bit the poet that Edgar Allan Poe was. Poe died […]
Alabaster
Some little girl’s are enamored with their mother’s dresser, but it was my father’s dresser that held all the wonder and mystery that could hold a young girl’s attention and curiosity. It was always a mess with little pieces of paper and sermon notes; receipts from milk and Hostess cupcakes he purchased; pens and tacky […]
That your cAHfeeeeeee, momma?
Some mornings feel unbearable. I drag out of bed after a restless night of bottle feedings and soggy diapers. (The Baby B turns nine months old today and still WILL NOT sleep through the night.) Occasionally, S has a bad dream and yells out in the middle of the night – usually just after getting […]
Nursing Homes Are Sad Places
Nursing homes are sad places, I tell you. Last night the Center invited families to dinner, but we were the only family that came. We had Mexican food nursing home style. It was pretty awful. The people all look so sad – slumped over in their wheelchairs, food stuck in the beards of men for […]
Everything I Own
I would give everything I own Give up my life, my heart, my home I would give ev’rything I own Just to have you back again.. –From David Gates (Bread), Everything I Own I miss you so much these days. It’s so difficult to make the drive to see you. Like Harry Chapin said, “The […]
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