My father was born in Dallas, Texas, on April 22, 1922. His given name was Edwin, but everyone called him Ed or Eddie. I was born some 30 years later; according to Mother, he was instantly enamored with me. “She’s special,” he told her, “I vow to give her a special place in my heart.” […]
In 1968, go-go boots, mini-skirts, and the mod Twiggy look were in style. Like most teenage girls of that time, I wanted to be fashionable, but I knew Mother would never agree to my wearing flashy go-go boots or bearing my knees in some mini-skirt. My best option was convincing her to allow me to […]
I learned to cook standing alongside Mother but often complained about her cramped, cracker box kitchen. “I hate cooking in here! There’s not enough room to do anything!” Mother stopped what she was doing; grabbed her wet dish towel; and snapped it on my buttocks. “Don’t be so fussy!” Despite its cramped quarters, I loved […]
by Kalí Rourke It was 1991 and I had planned a birth with drugs, lots of drugs. An epidural, if you please, and as I arrived at the hospital that morning for the induction my doctor recommended, I heard a woman down the hall screaming and moaning, “Oh, My GOD…” I gave thanks that those […]
by Sara Etgen-Baker It was Christmas Eve morning at our house. The Christmas lights twinkled; the tinsel glistened; the ornaments sparkled, and the Christmas tree silently awaited Santa’s arrival. I peered out the window; newly fallen snow blanketed the neighborhood streets. Barren, frost-covered trees shivered like frail skeletons trembling in the blustery winds; and silent […]
by Sara Etgen-Baker Tears stream down my cheeks, splattering upon the keyboard as I write this. ‘Tis the holiday season, you see, and I delight in the memories of my childhood yuletides. One such memory stands out as clearly as the glittering angel atop my Christmas tree. November’s blustery winds arrived weaving frost spider webs […]
