It’s My Head

imageMy mother could be so unreasonable about what I did with my own head when I was a kid.  I was sitting on the floor at the end of the kitchen table playing one evening after dinner, when Phyllis tipped over a bowl of canned peaches.  The syrup ran off the end of the table, onto my head.  It felt cool and good.  I didn’t complain.  The next morning Continue reading