Category: dad

9

Belle of the Bell

It was a square room. The dishwasher lived on wheels and rolled to the sink, where it was hooked up to the faucet when enough mugs and cereal bowls had accumulated. Hanging at the entrance to the dining room was a swinging door–usually propped open, unless there was company for whom...

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Drag Your Feet to Slow the Circles Down 25

Drag Your Feet to Slow the Circles Down

If your browser allows it, click Play: [audio:http://omightycrisis.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/03/12-The-Circle-Game.mp3|titles=12 – The Circle Game] ——————————————- One year, when my dad’s birthday rolled around, my mom didn’t know what to buy him for a gift–he already lived under Montana’s Big Sky and possessed a lovely tenor voice, both of which made the case for...

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Above the Horison: Postscript 20

Above the Horison: Postscript

Stop running away at the sight of this title, ya scaredy-blogger. Really. I’m done exhausting and exhuming the story of my grandma and dad. But at this point, before I move back to the usual programming of posts that detail how Jessica Alba is somehow like a Shamrock Shake–and other...

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Above the Horizon: Part the Last 27

Above the Horizon: Part the Last

a My great-aunt Ethel and Grandma Dorothy as girls in Montan The Saturday after his mother’s memorial service, my Finnish father, who would regularly answer the direct question of “What are you thinking right now?” with “I don’t know,” talked to me about his life. As it turns out, he...

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Above the Horizon I 19

Above the Horizon I

  I never felt particularly close to my paternal grandmother. She was pessimistic; she groused that I sat on the couch and read too much (“Don’t you ever go outside?”); and the candy jar in her living room only ever housed lemon drops and restaurant-style peppermint circles, which are the...

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