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Without cancer, from an overdose, to the truth of a marriage
By Our ReadersJuly 2006One of the uncomfortable things about living with a person who suffers from Alzheimer’s is that it makes you confront your own character flaws.
By Jan ShoemakerJune 2006Ever since the divorce, my mother had been living life at a frantic pace. There were mornings when she hardly had time to butter her bread, let alone toast it.
By Jason SchosslerApril 2006Up until two weeks before her death, my mother drove her little Toyota through the streets of Boston every day. She couldn’t do it alone; my father had to help her. He guided her in and out of the car and turned the key in the ignition.
By Joan MarcusApril 2006A family of aliens, the Big Dipper, an old wooden gazebo
By Our ReadersMarch 2006Dad never believed in heaven. In fact, he was an agnostic until the age of seventy, when he called me to announce that, unlike all the other old people in his Florida retirement condo who were frightened to die and turning to religion, he was now an atheist. It was one of the few times in fifty years that he’d told me anything personal about himself. Amused and grateful, I said, “Good for you, Dad. Good for you.”
By Genie ZeigerMarch 2006The day my mother and my brother flew in, I went to pick them up at the airport. At first I’d told them I couldn’t be there: I had to teach a class. (Of course, as the instructor, I could easily have canceled.) My mother’s reply was “So help me God, if you make us get a cab, I’ll pick up the goddamn white courtesy phone at the airport, page Mother Nature, and tell her to send Katrina to find you.”
By Steve FellnerJanuary 2006Besides the bananas, my dad raises chickens and grows red ginger and marijuana. I’m not sure how large his drug operation is or how much money he makes. I know that he smokes a lot of pot, but not so much for recreational purposes. It’s more about testing his wares. He rolls joints. He doesn’t own a bong, hookah, pipe, chillum, vaporizer, scale, dugout system, grinder, or steamroller. He’s old school.
By Kaui Hart HemmingsJanuary 2006Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
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