Snowbrush

I just got caught up on answering responses from past entries, so if you wrote to me and didn't hear back, or didn't find a response...

My 17-day career in the Air Force being over (see April 20), Peggy and I returned to Mississippi where I got a job as a fifth grade teacher ...

I’m not feigning modesty when I say I’m a fake. That last piece; I didn’t feel that way when I posted it. I felt that way last week, but I o...

I couldn’t tolerate the Demerol (I think it would have killed me), and Vicodin, Percocet, and Norco all stop working long before I can take ...

I can’t read good writing out loud and not cry. I try. Sometimes, I survive a few paragraphs—a very few paragraphs—but no more. I am saddene...

Has it been worthwhile—your life, I mean? I will answer with a story. Long ago, I watched a girl eating in the school cafeteria. Everyday, I...

All I can say in defense of what I’m about to share is to give you my word that it is the truth as I remember it. You might reply, “Friend, ...

“Your grandpa was one man who loved his Bible,” people often told me. It was high praise in the rural and religious Mississippi of the ‘50s ...

I thought that it might cheer me to read about people who were worse off than myself, so one of the books I added to my pre-surgical hoard w...

Vicodin and Percocet make me itch, so I asked surgeon Mark for something else. He prescribed Norco, but the druggist objected that Norco is ...

I have often thought that I would like to have a home altar, but two things work against it. One is that I have never been able to clarify w...

If your idea of a good time is dropping a roll of toilet paper down the john and repeatedly trying to flush it, then you should just love na...

I took two Demerol tablets and went to church today, my arm in its sling and the sling under Walt’s extra large pile jacket. My midriff insi...