Six Generations of First Born Women

We were driving from Boston to New Jersey. Pete had the rifle in the back of the van. It was Thanksgiving and deer season in Jersey. At the time, my folks lived on the side of a gravel road in Mine Hill. There was a dense wooded area behind the house. My dad never went hunting as far as I know, but... Sign in to see full entry.

Writing about my mother was worse than living with her. How to say something about that relationship that has some truth, some balance, without having ulterior motives. I do not love her. To try to tell why is a snake pit of twisted experience and convoluted thoughts. Feelings of hatred would often... Sign in to see full entry.

My mother was a fearful woman. I think what made her most afraid was me. She told me when I was a tot I'd throw tantrums. I'd lay down in the street and kick and scream at the top of my lungs. She would walk away and pretend she didn't know me. Control was the way my mother dealt with fear. As long... Sign in to see full entry.

My Dad always satisfied his desires. No matter what the families financial situation was he always managed to buy himself a new car every two or three years. Mom and I would never know when he would pull in the drive with the next best thing. I used to wonder about the money. It was a forbidden... Sign in to see full entry.

The dream house needed work. It's like getting to know a new lover. In the first 5 seconds of the encounter there is the zap that tells you whether or not this is worth pursuing. If the feelings are consumated, then the real work of building something begins. We invested everything we had in that... Sign in to see full entry.