Studio by Katy Nicosia. CC license. When we first enter the Robert Rauschenberg retrospective at the Tate Modern, my parents’ eyes brighten as if they’re greeting old friends. Before they suggested we spend their last day in the UK here, I had no idea who Rauschenberg was, no idea that he was such a major influence on their own work. Dad gravitates to a print of a tyre track that spans an entire wall, Mom to a monoprint of two figures in a field of blue. I split myself between them, not wanting to miss … Continue reading The Rauschenberg Retrospective by Ingrid Jandrewski→
We never know when it will be the last time, do we? If I had known, I would have paid closer attention to the story mom shared about her acquaintance’s daughter’s friend. I usually listened half-heartedly to these stories she often told. I probably wanted to tell her more about my own life. But that time, the last time, I would have listened, maybe asked a question or two. I’d have leaned into my mother, given her a smile, and taken the time to be completely and fully present. We would have been standing side-by-side … Continue reading The Last Time by Cheryl Somers Aubin→
Rebecca Watkins has earned an Honorable Mention in Streetlight’s 2024 Essay/Memoir Contest “As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from a troubled dream, he found himself changed in his bed to some monstrous kind of vermin.” —The Metamorphosis *** It was winter, 2021 when my first Nespresso machine, Helga, died. I am not the kind of person who names my personal belongings, but I figure it would be more enjoyable to read “The Story of Helga” instead of “The Story of the Nespresso Machine,” so I am calling her Helga. I had noticed, once or … Continue reading Cockroaches in Coffee Pots by Rebecca Watkins→
Through a dimly lit haze, I see myself in my adult son’s psych ward room, gathering his things into a paper bag so we can check out. I place his clothes, extra pair of shoes, personal items into a grocery sack because the beautiful twilight iridescent duffle bag (mine) that they arrived in seven days prior has now gone missing according to the nursing staff. On the flat wooden rail atop the half wall separating the wash sink from his sleeping area is a tiled, rectangular trivet sort of thing. “Nick,” I say, “is this … Continue reading The Trivet by Nancy Halgren→
Philip Newman Lawton has earned an Honorable Mention in Streetlight’s 2024 Essay/Memoir Contest My sister Margaret is dead. Her body has gone to cinders, her pain, blown away like smoke. I want to remember her as a child, go back far enough to trace the whole arc of her existence, make sense of it, figure out why she lived and died the way she did, but we grew up in a dysfunctional family, an alcoholic father, a hand-wringing mother, and I was prone to lose myself in books and daydreams. My memories are in … Continue reading Deus Absconditus by Philip Newman Lawton→
I LOVE shoes. I have loved shoes for as long as I can remember, but it wasn’t until I became an adult that I had the disposable income to explore what that really meant. Growing up as the daughter of a pastor at a small midwestern church, there wasn’t a lot of money for anything that wasn’t a necessity. Expensive, sparkly shoes did not fit the criteria. I’ll be honest, my favorite shoes these days are my Converse . . . solid, comfortable, and easy to wear. My six-year-old daughter shares my love for them, … Continue reading Shoe Story by J. Tara Scott→
Karen Dolan has earned an Honorable Mention in Streetlight’s 2024 Essay/Memoir Contest I had seen the penis on the ultrasound, I knew I was having a boy. What I didn’t know was that I was wrong. “Stop it with all the questions!” the midwife barks in response to my questions about a possible epidural. “This isn’t a think tank.” This is a dig at me and my employment at–indeed–a Washington, DC think tank. I feel like I’m in a medieval torture chamber and my captor is commanding me to shut up, lay back, and … Continue reading The Earth is Round by Karen Dolan→
Katherine Slaughter has earned an Honorable Mention in Streetlight’s 2024 Essay/Memoir Contest Oppenheimer: Back to the Future In the movie theater, I clenched my shoulders and hunched in anticipation of the blast; I could feel the tightness in my jaw. The time between the image and the subsequent sound of the explosion was akin to the space between a lightning strike and a thunderous storm: the interminable wait until the explosion erupted with all its furious sound. Viscerally, I had a sense of generational deja vu. I had grown up in the 1940s and … Continue reading The Oppenheimer Retrospective by Katherine Slaughter→
By the time I reached my teens, I was taken with the idea of writing a fictionalized autobiography, but as my college roommate, Barry, observed, no one will want to read my autobiography if I have led a dull life. He was right, of course, but I had already considered that problem and thought I had solved it with the novel—if overly precious—notion of setting my autobiographical account in the nineteenth century even though I lived in the twentieth. This would have required historical research to figure out what would be the same and what … Continue reading The Thinly Disguised Autobiography by Miles Fowler→
Sandra Hopkins is the 1st place winner of Streetlight’s 2024 Essay/Memoir Contest How did my grandpa, Papa Hop, know that it would be impossible for me not to put my tongue in the space where my first baby tooth had come out? How could he predict that all on its own my untamed tongue would find my soft, raw gum and seek to massage it? I wanted a gold tooth just like his. His teeth gleamed as he spoke. A piece of Timothy hay he was chewing on moved up and down as he … Continue reading Tongues of Fire by Sandra Hopkins→
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