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’m not the marrying kind. Even though I’ve done it two times. That’s the enigma. It’s a mystery even to me. My personal paradox. The thing is, it’s not even that I...
Thomas Wolfe once wrote that, “You can’t go home again.” Part of me believes that is true. Yet part of me thinks you can. I just did. It took ten years and a 50th...
Last summer I did something I never thought I ever do. Again. I got married. E and I had a long courtship. Almost twenty years. We weren’t avoiding getting married. ...
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.
