On October 15th, 2012, my life changed. This is the story as I originally told it on the one month anniversary to my fellow insomniacs on Twitter (140 character blurbs at a time). “One month ago EXACTLY I was waking up broken and bleeding in a bean field. I couldn’t even scream. Everything was metal-- … Continue reading What Might Have Been
The following originated as a term paper for the creative non-fiction class I took the spring of my senior year. My original subject, "Why I Don't Go to Church," was inspired by Anne Lamott's essay "Why I Don't Meditate." I. A single beam of light falls upon the cardinal as he speaks to us, the reverent crowd. He … Continue reading In My House of Worship
This piece was prompted by stories of mentors. I dedicate this to my fellow "survivors" of Carl Ingle. We called him the Vulture. He wore the same gray sweatshirt every day, the same pale khaki trousers, and the same sensible black shoes. Tall, well over six feet even with his hunched shoulders, and tough to the … Continue reading The Vulture, a Tribute
This is the memorial I wrote for my former gifted teacher, Ms. Cindy Schwarz. It was printed in The Osawatomie Journal. This is something I never thought I would have to write. I don’t want to write it; not because I don’t care, but because that means it’s real. I’ve been in a state of … Continue reading Duct Tape and Diet Coke. For Ms. Schwarz.
The Last of the Really Great Whangdoodles was, and actually still is, one of my favorite books. Julie Edwards, the author of another childhood favorite Mandy, gave life to this wonderful tale and I treasure it dearly. Full of color and vivaciousness, this baby novel was one of my first full length books. Three children and a wacky, … Continue reading Brief Visit to Childhood