I am wearing a set of devices that I affectionately, without a trace of affection, call SPANX for teeth. If you are a man then this reference is possibly lost on you, though I suspect if you are one of the regulars here then you are the sort of man who has a woman friend … Continue reading A story in a suitcase.
Here's how I knew we were going to the beach and not to my grandparents' house at Hardy: when we turned from our street and drove past the Howard Johnson's (where we went to get ice cream), we turned and drove up a ramp, past the billboard picture of the girl with the dog tugging … Continue reading destin-ation.
By the time you are reading this, if I didn't make a mistake in scheduling this post and if you are the hot off the press, read as soon as it's published sort of reader, I'll be about halfway to the beach. If you're from here (meaning Memphis), then you know exactly, give or take … Continue reading Life’s a beach.
Inside Miss Pettibone's black leather pocketbook, which was lined in shiny black satin, were these things: a packet of facial tissues, a needlepoint case for glasses (with a spare pair of glasses inside), a red leather coin purse, a dusty pink compact, a tarnished silver lipstick case, a ballpoint pen, a bottle of prescription pills … Continue reading Miss Pettibone’s pocketbook.
The key, I say, is to start with a good anchor and then keep it simple; let simple words do the work so you can remember: I'm going on a trip, and I'm taking an alligator. I'm going on a trip, and I'm taking an alligator and a ball, she says. I'm going on a … Continue reading The red balloon.
Opals were meant to be worn only by those for whom opal was their birthstone, that's what my mother said. But I loved opals, loved their mystery, their hologram-like coloring. So I used my babysitting money to buy an opal ring from Lowell Hays Jewelers. It was a dainty ring, the setting bright, yellow gold, … Continue reading The iridescent shimmer of 12.
Fourth grade was my favorite year of school either because Mrs. Rutherford, whom I adored, was my teacher or because Mrs. Rutherford read to us, among many other books, From the Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, one of my favorite books of all time, ever. Looking back, I should have loved 4th grade … Continue reading Tales of 4th grade everything.