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Before my father died I loved my mother, but now it’s different. I can no longer go to her, put my arms around her, or anything like that. She has become somehow strange to me, and so, not lovable.
By Karlton KelmAugust 1985I was sitting at my desk near midnight, when the hair on the back of my neck rose, and a chill ran down my spine. I think someone is standing somewhere a ways behind the cabin, watching me through the windows.
By Jon RemmerdeAugust 1985Halfway up University, in front of Walt’s Drugs, I said, “Mom, I’ve never had an orgasm with a man.” I said the “with a man” under my breath but it got us off placemats. When mother was surprised she’d get a little smile on her top lip.
By Adele LevinJune 1985Mrs. Paradiso had never read any part of the Bible. She did not concentrate on dogma but devotion. Her religion was not a retreat for her mind but a release for her emotions.
By Karlton KelmMarch 1985Mopping the kitchen, finding a stamp collection, blaming Shirley Temple
By Our ReadersFebruary 1985Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
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