Schultzville, the town, offered a general store with a sagging front porch. Inside, glass bottles of Heinz, dusty cans of Dinty Moore Beef Stew, and the candy. My uncle’s house was down the road from the store. His historic house told stories with its low bannisters and cellar kitchen, windows on pulleys. Tall grass hills … Continue reading Banana Seat
Circa ’77
Heist
There is a sneak in me left over from childhood. I was the one who quietly picked up the phone to listen in. I found a way to walk up our old wooden steps without making them squeak. I listened to adults talk at parties and heard things I shouldn’t have. I crawled out my … Continue reading Heist
The Hill
We lived near the bottom of a long hill, a hill that kept going forever. From the top of the hill came stories, evasions, mysteries that were never solved. I would sometimes look up the hill and wonder. Our own house was embedded into the hill. We sledded down our side yard in winter, mowed … Continue reading The Hill
Circa 77 