Headquarters was a tree fort and a look-out tucked in a ravine on the undeveloped side of the neighborhood, the world of How ‘bout… “What do you wanna do now?” “How ‘bout the fort? “Nah, too hot.” Two months of accumulated scrap two-by-fours, nails, and even a stack of pilfered plywood covered the old sagging … Continue reading Taming the Sun, The Value of Scrap Mettle (part 3)
Catholic authority had soaked into my essence, influencing my world from all sides: Mom, my older brother, School, Creation itself taught me I was second, and guilty just for existing. I was the good Catholic girl though, and even had a hard time cussing. If I practiced to myself, f-k, the sound of my own … Continue reading Taming the Sun, The Value of Scrap Mettle (part 2)
Memories of what it felt like before Traumatic Brain Injury are a clear breath of spring air, the feeling of when I felt sure of the world is a touch mythical. They surface bittersweet, slightly nostalgic of a stolen life. “Dad” was more of a presence than a parent before he died, as he rarely spoke … Continue reading Taming the Sun, The Value of Scrap Mettle, (part 1)
I eagerly anticipated 8th grade graduation since my brother had been awarded a brand-new $280 10-speed on the occasion. My own graduation came and went without a mention of a bike, and my frustration at the unfairness was practically unbearable. Yet, an upgrade from the now childish Huffy was mandatory. Babysitting over the summer for … Continue reading Taming the Sun, Two Wheels (cont.)
A bicycle has always been more than a machine, as close to flight as possible. Two wheels inspires daydreams and freedom, I believe. I watched my parents teach my brother how to ride in a parking lot, both of them focused on him balancing until he got it. I taught myself on his bike, starting … Continue reading Introduction to Taming The Sun, (ch. 2) Two Wheels
Ozone, an invisible gas, precedes stealthily ahead of a thunderstorm, announcing a downpour’s arrival by settling down with an acrid odor, the ghost of rain landing first. The aroma is sharp and asphalty, as if pelting water has already stirred up dirt from the street, but the road is still confusingly dry. “Smells like rain,” … Continue reading Intro to a chapter of my book: the Ineffables
Love-hate relationships.... 20 years ago I loved the palm pilot because it could serve as memory device, somewhat of an equaliser for me to participate in the business world. It was even better when phones consolidated contacts on the phone, so I wouldn't have to access the number on one device and dial it into … Continue reading We got things done.