By: Rebecca Frager On Mother’s Day, my sister noticed a Facebook post from our sister-in-law wishing her mother a “Happy Mother’s Day.” My sister replied to her post by saying something like, “You should tell Richard (our brother) to call his mom.” Later in the day, he responded with, “If she wants to talk to … Continue reading Hey, Kids, call your mother.
By: Stephanie Rice Getting in and out of Baltimore on a game day is a crapshoot. We left our house an hour early and still arrived late to our appointment at the hospital. We left the hospital an hour early and were set to arrive late picking up the boys from daycare too. I did … Continue reading Helpless
By: Jeanne Cameron Wilma spent money on many things her husband disapproved of. Or he would have, if he had known. Eleanor did the same, both the spending and the secret-keeping. And each woman developed her own special recipe for such deceptions. Wilma’s included a pinch of guilt; Eleanor’s, a sprinkle of rationalization [every purchase … Continue reading Eleanor and Wilma
By: Ed Kennedy That was the shocking call I got from my father’s longtime, fantastic girlfriend, D, at about 3 in the afternoon while at the office. I don’t know how to explain that call outside of distant echoing of D’s voice on the other end of the line, while vivid memories of my father … Continue reading “Ed….you need to get down here now. Your dad’s not going to make it.”
By: Stephanie Rice “We’re going to find the Mud Hole today,” I declared to my brother and sister as we traversed down the trodden tractor path to the opening of the creek, or, as we say in Pennsylvania, the “crick.” My sister and I spent every other weekend at my dad’s house, which was out … Continue reading Mud Hole
By: Anonymous Eddy was a handsome fellow born in Seneca Falls, NY to his immigrant parents who fled Hungary a decade earlier for the United States to get away from the Revolution that was tearing their country apart. They made it to Ellis Island and moved to Seneca Falls. At the time, Seneca Falls, a … Continue reading Part II Edward’s Story
By: Opa As a son of a handy man, it fell to me to be his gofer. I like to tell people that early on I thought my name was “hold it.” I didn’t know it then, but I think we were on the low end of middle class, so my father was really good … Continue reading Wheelbarrow