O Mighty Crisis Stories

13

Full Moon, Agitated Hearts

As is my way, I was racing the clock, squeaking in to the meeting two minutes late. In my defense, I was hustling because I had stopped to buy a baguette to set out during the meeting, in case anyone needed a late-afternoon snack. While at the store hunting down carbohydrates, I...

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8

My Thing

I’m a firm believer that teens do better if they have a “thing.” Preferably not heroin. Ideally, the thing might be football, chess, sewing, soccer–some activity that helps navigate the journey toward self-definition. When we’re young and don’t yet know what we are or who we’ll be, having a “thing” can clarify. For...

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18

Miss Gastrocnemius

I walked down the empty corridor, the modest heels of my pumps clicking satisfyingly on the tiles. After a three-hour night class, I couldn’t wait to get home for dinner and an icy drink, so the clicks echoed quickly, pertly. As I passed one of the the Auto Body classrooms,...

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22

Clicking Along

I walked down the empty corridor, the heels of my pumps clicking satisfyingly on the tiles. After a three-hour night class, I was eager to get home for dinner and an icy drink, so the clicks echoed quickly, pertly. As I walked, I considered the joy this class was bringing...

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17

Seizing It

We stood in the kitchen, eating Sunday morning biscuits and working out a quick schedule of the day–as families do–figuring out who would drive downtown to take two boys to the matinee who would drive up the hill to help the fourteen-year-old pick out black dress pants for her band photo...

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13

Holding a Balloon

I first became aware of Caitlin Moran a couple years ago, when her book How to Be a Woman was creating a splash. In search of a read that was smart but didn’t make my tired brain hurt, I grabbed a copy. Almost immediately, I wished it was 1985 and...

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12

Hitting the Motherlode at Mamalode

I’ve been writing this blog since 2006 and, before that, pouring words into wild Christmas letters that took so long to read my friends were still working through them come New Year’s. All this fun writing is great. But recently, I decided to start submitting essays to a few publications,...

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14

Being Able to Climb a Princess’ Hair Is Pretty Ludicrous, Too

Once upon a time, two white, middle-class Midwesterners decided to invite all the townspeople to a feast called Potluck. Listen, not all fairy tales begin with mentally-unstable witches making mischief. Sometimes they begin with swans hatched into the wrong family; hungry wolves; vain emperors; magic shoes; and, yes, middle-class white...

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17

No Dull Boys, Not Even You, Jack

It’s not for lack of trying. Ever since they were old enough to kick a ball, turn a somersault, and weave a multi-colored tote bag on a floor loom, we’ve signed our kids up for activities. Partly, we did this because it helped to pass some of the long hours...

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12

Waning

The poor boy inherited his mother’s bad throat. A crummy night’s sleep, an overtaxing day, a demanding week, and there they go: the tonsils. Swelling, scratching, kissing, and aching–tender tonsils manifest the stress. My life has been peppered by throat ailments. They must have become more persistent in adulthood, as having...

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