"Don't worry. They have everything at IKEA. They probably even have the IKEA birthing room. Look, you've already peed your pants in a liquor store. What have you got to lose?"
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Suprise Me
Holding On, Letting Go
Prompted By Home
/ Stories
"Don't worry. They have everything at IKEA. They probably even have the IKEA birthing room. Look, you've already peed your pants in a liquor store. What have you got to lose?"
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Where Are We?
Prompted By The Twilight Zone
/ Stories
"...to escape this deepening Twilight Zone of thoughtless reacting to an imaginary world of maufactured facts."
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Take the Best, Discard the Rest
Prompted By Imitation
/ Stories
Remember the old movie, “The Crying Game”, where one of the lead characters passes as a different gender until the big reveal toward the end of the movie? The audience was admonished to not give away the secret so it wasn’t ruined for those who hadn’t seen the film yet. That came to mind when…
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First Memories, My Trip Home
Prompted By First Memory
/ Stories
Coming home from a Colorado Army Hospital to South Dakota, first memories.
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A Doggerel for the 60s
Prompted By Fads and Trends
/ Stories
It’s the Age of Aquarius, a 60s party, get your flower power on ...
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Bed and Breakfast
Prompted By Valentine's Day
/ Stories
Bed and Breakfast On their first wedded Valentine’s Day they had their first big fight. Angry and hurt, she ran out to her car before he could stop her. She drove several miles to the small country inn they had often seen from the highway. To punish him and make him worry, she promised…
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The Show
Prompted By Let's Put On a Show
/ Stories
One of the mothers made these costumes. Yes, I still have mine.
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We’re Here, We’re Queer…
Prompted By Pandemic, Year Three
/ Stories
I’m connected to you. Intimately. I don’t just stick my viral tongue down your throat and dive into the gooey mucus of your lungs. I don’t just rabble rouse such a riot among your antibodies that they rise up and blindly attack their host, your body. Your own rogue antibodies kill you. Go figure. I…
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Class of 1968
Prompted By 1968
/ Stories
I was in the high school class of 1968, indelibly stamped. When that year was still the future, it represented that border between childhood dependency and my real life, whatever that might mean. I had known nothing but childhood, but I felt ready for things to turn.
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Ms Information
Prompted By Directionally Challenged
/ Stories
No matter where I am–at home or abroad–people ask me for directions. I don’t know why. Most of the time I can answer correctly, but I’m sure I’ve made some mistakes. Years ago, I brought this up at lunch with my friends and colleagues at the high school where I worked. One of the (younger)…
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