Back when I was about 12 or 13, in the mezzaluna phase of the twentieth century, my Mom forced me to endure unfathomable torture. She drove me to a quiet hillside, out on the backroads of Eastern Kansas. And she turned off the ignition to the ’48 Chevy pickup, opened the driver’s door, stepped outside, and said, “OK, slide over behind the wheel.” (for … The rest of the story…
Tag Archives: a special memory
I remember, even way back in the 20th century when I was a kid, how pastors could get fire-and-brimstone fired up. And how they’d want some feedback. So, a lot of them would say something with particular emphasis and ask, “Can I get an Amen?” And somebody (or multiple somebodies) would shout, “Amen!” Of course, as a little kid, I just thought those adults … The rest of the story…
I’ve talked about how my parents split up when I was around 4. And I’ve talked about how my younger brother and I lived mainly with my grandparents (on Dad’s side) for a couple of years after that. But I’ve never mentioned how my Grandmother forced me to work all hours of the day and night. And how she made me snap green beans … The rest of the story…