My father died thirty-seven years ago. I didn’t eulogize him at his funeral. I couldn’t. As a young man, I was too filled with rebellion and resentment to see what he was trying to show me. I only saw what he lacked, and his sad efforts to inflate what he thought he had to offer by aggrandizing parts of his life story. It was hard for me to determine what was true and what was not, which blinded me to the fact that no aggrandizement was necessary. I gathered from the little he said about … Continue reading Eulogy For My Father by E. H. Jacobs →
The sound of rustling leaves, like old fashioned petticoats, soothed the cold lodged like a stone above my brow. Compliant for once to the vagaries of my body, I stretched out on the floor letting my mind wander toward the Blue Ridge sprawled across the horizon in a color I love because of its smoky calm. How relieved my father would be to see where I live. In a rare heart-to heart conversation two years before his death in 1992, I told him how unhappy I was in my marriage of thirty years “We’ve come … Continue reading A Room Called Remember by Mary McCue →
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