Three sides to a story

Today, February 21, the sky shines crystal clear upon Herman McCoy’s account of my birthday-or better said, my birthnight. On foot, my uncle rounded the last curve between Freeburn, Kentucky, and his home in the McCoy Bottom. A heart light with love from courting...

Season of garden dreams

“Maggie wants to expand the garden this spring,” Jack said with a smile. A truck driver for thirty-seven years, you can’t call Jack a slacker. Here in the depth of February, he’s happy as a tick on an old coon dog. The surgeon gave him two new hips last November, and...

My father in the kitchen door

In February 1995, my father called. Caution threw up a hand. This wasn’t about my birthday. “Dad?” “You don’t know who this is?” he said in his belittling tone. “I didn’t expect you to call. You usually drop by. Are you okay?” “I need you to drive me to St. John’s...

Illumination of the written word

Libraries call my name wherever I travel. Our forefathers speak their history and literature-what mattered most, why they invested their means and talents to build a house of books and letters for posterity. I recall the Library of Trinity College, Dublin. Weeks after...

Three Golden Anniversaries

  Last December, my husband and I booked the April tour titled Country Roads of Scotland to celebrate our 50th Wedding Anniversary, January 24, 1970. I know what you’re thinking. Who in their right mind would plan and host a January wedding in Michigan? Two young...