Re-thinking Left Hander’s Day

A couple of months ago it was "Left Hander's Day" (August 13th) This particular made-up holiday put my panties in a knot, because I always resented being singled out as a left- handed person. There's a stigma against us, (however small these days) and the preconceived notion that we somehow qualify as "freaks". That really…

My Rock N Roll Fantasies

Here's a compilation of memories which reveal how much I've always loved music. When I look back, it surprises me how much into music I was, since I have no musical talent to speak of. The first thing I remember is having an imaginary friend named Baby Bear. Baby Bear was supposed to be from…

Snow White’s Bad Day

Here’s another short story from the archives of my mind. Although I grew up in California, I have plenty of memories of playing with my cousins back in the suburbs of Boston. This story makes me ponder (more than usual, that is) the differences between growing up in the 1950’s and growing up in the…

April In Pursuit

This short story, a memory from my childhood, takes place when I was about 8, in the Northern California town I grew up in. April In Pursuit I had a friend named April who lived a few blocks away from me. April had a nice full head of auburn curls and a lovely Texas drawl.…

Grandma’s Un-haunted House

I believe in ghosts, spirits or whatever you want to call them. I don’t believe that every person who dies becomes a ghost, though. But I definitely believe that some spirits of the dead can’t pass on. Those trapped souls are what present themselves to us as “ghosts”. My theory is that the better your…

This Time It’s Personal: Life Before Buddy

Warning: Posts in this segment may contain language that is inappropriate and/or offensive to some readers. I used to be the World's biggest pack rat. "Used to be" is the operative phrase. Let's hope so, anyway. I was always sentimental, a collector by nature, and perhaps, what many minimalists might call a "hoarder". My friends…

This Time It’s Personal: Remembering Missy

When we got the call that Sunday, I was surprised, mostly because I’d just been thinking of my friend Melissa. She’d been sick for a while and I really expected her to pull through. But my childhood friend Melissa or “Missy” as I called her, is gone. I hadn’t seen Missy in years, since she…