I’ve never liked talking about my age. In fact, I wrote a piece a few years ago about never leading with your age. Anything else but that. I believed then (and I still do) that...
My Old Man was obsessed with lottery tickets. Every week he bought one (or more accurately, more than one, more like a fistful). He would rub his hands together and gleefully...
I love a good snow day. I always have. We had one last week. They are pretty rare in this part of the country so when one happens it’s an ‘event.’ Not momentous like...
The day I had the epiphany, that ‘ah ha!’ moment after reading The New York Times article, I got to thinking about when this whole thing began. Not the world beginning, that...
As far back as I can remember, I wrote. Private young-girl thoughts in secret diaries, then poetry filled with teenage angst and dark poetry peppered with profanity. I wrote daily letters to God in Hilroy notebooks, short stories and poems for kids, sad country songs, and raw truth-telling stories about life growing up in a blue-collar neighbourhood in Northwestern Ontario. These are those stories and poems.
