Our first home without wheels was on the Mississippi River in St. Louis when I was ready to start kindergarten. I got my first real bed to sleep in not just a lower kitchen drawer they tucked me in at night. We were all happy Pops got a good job at a factory on the river as a welder. He actually... Sign in to see full entry.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Even though my family was dysfunctional, we had love...
My pops was tall, dark and his most descriptive figure was his white hair and long white beard he sported for many years. My pops was like most men, a bread winner, giver of information and a controller. He ducked any kind of sentiment, and always absorbed himself in otherness. He collected cars,... Sign in to see full entry.
Happiness and melancholy burns through even our best memories...
Personally speaking, I carry my subsequent ego on my back like a camel while my flesh continues widening and my gray hair competes for room on the top of my head. You see, for me there was always less air, less sunshine and less fun. The experience of my becoming whole and contented with my lot in... Sign in to see full entry.
I am a wound-tight dreamer, lost in days and nights of pain...isolated...
I am depressed one day and striving to produce the next, with not quite 20/20 vision, sensitive ears and noisy fingers and mouth. Since I was a little girl, I’ve been on a kind of mental metamorphosis contemplating how each generation was supposedly built on the accomplishments of the last. I’ve... Sign in to see full entry.