Line tamer.
Second grade. Mrs. Gombocz’s class. A jumble of memories, such as Mrs. Gombocz’s red hair. An arithmetic workbook. The guinea pig kept in the back of the room that certain kids got to take home on long weekends to watch. And this scene: one day I asked whether I could come back to the classroom after Read More …
Some stories become mantras over the years, such as that first day of December when my younger sister was born it was 60 degrees and my mother brought her home in a light blanket. And then other stories are more of an impression, an image, the details hazy. Such as this stuffed mouse. Was it Read More …
My company’s holiday party is tonight. It’s at one of my favorite places: the MET’s Temple of Dendur in the Egyptian wing. I love holiday parties: the decorations, the food and wine, the winter wardrobe of sweaters and corduroy. But most of all the cheer, the gathering of people at the darkest time of the Read More …
Maybe it’s a sign of age, or a sign that I have too much going on in my head, but as vividly as I remember who gave me certain ornaments, I can’t remember who gave me others. Take this glass square, profile of a snowman, easily one of my heaviest ornaments but one that always Read More …
On my tree, a wooden wreath of spools, beads, twine and ribbon, another craft from one of my younger sister’s December 1st birthday parties. If it were made of fake evergreen limbs, it would surely get lost on these imitation branches, and its weight makes it sag a bit. But it got me thinking that Read More …
My parents and older sister were in town from Bethlehem yesterday, a bus trip they make every couple of holiday seasons. The last time they were here my younger sister from Boston and older brother from California were in town too, a little family reunion just months before my mother would be diagnosed with multiple Read More …
Today I bring you Wonder Woman. She is gayborhood-adjacent. Those who know me know of my love for her. My homage to her–“Orange Colored Sky”–was just accepted to the anthology Drawn to Marvel: Poems from the Comic Books. And though that poem chronicles my childhood memories of Lynda Carter’s portrayal, there are other incarnations I Read More …
Last day of the gayborhood tour, though through this lens one could argue all the ornaments on my tree are a little gay. Today I bring you a fabulous and crazy glass ball that I rescued from the family tree when some old ornaments had to make way for new ones. Objects glow and fade Read More …
One happy discovery upon seeing those old ornaments of Stephanie’s was finding an echo: the pervy elf. My elf recently joined the ornaments. He’s not even technically an ornament, just a bendy little guy that turned up one day and sits contentedly on a bough. Aimee, my roomie and “wifey” thinks she introduced him to Read More …
When Stephanie was still alive. It’s still odd to write those words, to think back ten years ago to memories of a time and place so different from my current life. Memories of weekend trips to Carlisle, PA to visit Brian, my boyfriend of those years. Memories of my first job out of college–an Assistant Read More …