--Loudon, NH 1982-- The richest members of our Pentecostal church owned a racetrack, and as a favor to my father they hired my brother and me to help sell programs....
During the day the front counter’s windows gave you a full view of the line of customers, of the cars pulling in and out, of the traffic on Laconia, New...
If pressed, I would deny that I am lost and instead claim that my hotel is lost. It is not here on Montalbano, as the website promised. I peer at...
The homemade rolls at the Chesterfield Tea Room were yeasty heaps of buttery heaven, kneaded and punched and baked by the staff whose uniforms matched the white linen table cloths...
A tiny collage hangs at what is eye level, for a six year old, in my son Jacob’s room. It’s not much more than an inch or two high, a...
When I get to my parents’ house, I will begin choosing photographs for the collage we will surely hang, when the time comes, at my father’s wake. He is still...
“If you do anything,” my father said through the darkness of the pickup cab, “play this song at my funeral.” One-handing the wheel, he rattled around the console, snuck out...