memoir

Wonderful Times of Reading Aloud

Nutsrok

It has always been a joy to hear my sister Phyllis read aloud.  Till my last days, I will cherish a few days during school Christmas vacation in 1961.  Phyllis was enjoying reading Great Expectations in her ninth grade English class and offered to read a few pages aloud. Daddy was working second shift at the paper mill, so once he left and the remains of the noon meal were cleared away, we settled in the cozy living room for a reading.  I would have been eleven, Billy, eight, and Connie and Marilyn, two and a few months old.  Enraptured by the story of Pip, the cruel Estella, and the mad Miss Havisham, I would

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Puppy Love

My dog is cheating on me.  He begs to go out then only stands in the drive and looks longingly at the neighbor’s house.  I do believe, if I allowed it, he’d  howl a serenade under the lady’s window.  A few times, she’s stopped to visit and pet him.  You’d think think she’d invited him into her life.  Puffing out his chest,  he peed impressively, then kicked up a huge cloud of dust. to show what a mighty fellow he is.  In all honesty, his bladder capacity is astounding since he’s a mastiff, but I don’t think it makes her want him more., nor does his habit of making a beeline to sniff her nether portions.

Worse yet, if he gets more than twenty feet ahead of me, he goes stone deaf.  Buzzy, my other dog, suffers the same malady.  Though we have a two-acre yard with plenty of poop room, they are both desperate to leave surprises for the neighbors.  Early on, I made sure they knew the perimeter of our yard.  Since then, they’ve both try not to go inside its boundaries.  If they got their heart’s desire, we’d be surrounded by a poop fence on all four sides ten feet just outside our property lines.  Buzzy’s deposits are offensive enough, but Croc’s leavings are mountainous.and would soon obscure the view if left to lie.  We’d be run out of the neighborhood if they got their wish.

Not My Grocery Store

Image courtesy of Pixabay

I wish I could find this grocery store.  I hate self-check out, particularly when I have produce.  I don’t want to key in codes or weigh apples.  I don’t want to bag my own.  Recently, the checker in the only full-service lane closed as I approached, leaving two express lanes free.  Of course, self-check was wide open. I wheeled right in, remarking there was no full-service check line open.  She suggested self- check or waiting for a full-service lane.

I told her, “I’m not doing that.”  The supervisor walked over and I voiced my complaint.

She explained express lane was not set up for full-service.  I explained that I had no intention of using self-check.  They did check me out.  I have a real problem with stores expecting shoppers cutting labor costs and expecting me to assume responsibility.

 

 

Misery

Image courtesy of Pixabay

I am normally up between four and five.  I’d love to sleep later, but my eyes spring open like a cheap window shade .  I am desperate to be out of bed.  Yesterday morning, for some reason, I dozed back off. The crazy dreams started.  It was miserable.  I dreamed I was supposed to be at a mail-carrier job ninety miles away.  Every effort to get there fell through.  First, II couldn’t find black pants I had to wear.  Next, I had dawdled and not gotten ready.  I kept struggling, but one impediment after another held me back. It was misery, like trying to push syrup up a hill with a stick.  I was so glad to finally wake up.  This morning, I jumped straight up.  It was so much better.

Chase Your Dream – But What If You Don’t Want To?

A Momma's View

There was this discussion in a truly inspiring group recently. The idea of the group is to strive for more. To make yourself the best possible version of you you can possibly be and to dream big and go after your dreams. Simply. Easy.

Or is it?

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National Coming Out Day – 2018: The Stardust

Art by Rob Goldstein

Gay men are telling their stories for National Coming Out Day.

This is mine. 

Some context

I was born in South Carolina.

My family lived in a housing project in downtown Charleston.

My Mother was a night shift waitress at a local greasy
spoon: The Coffee Cup.

Unknown to me, she was a ‘Mother’ figure to some of the
younger gay boys who hung out at the gay bar.

In 1967, when I came out at the age of 16, my Mother took me
dancing at the Stardust Lounge, Charleston’s only gay bar.

In writing The Stardust, I’ve used the accent I had at the time.

Geechee, an African-American dialect spoken on John’s Island,
South Carolina influenced my accent.

I wrote ‘The Stardust’ in 1984 as theatrical piece and used poetic
form to shape the lines.

My goal was for the piece to work as performance…

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