Introduction Vietnam. To many Americans it is a tag on an article of clothing. But to anyone who was sixteen or older in the Sixties, it is a name seared into their psyche. For ten years, the top story on the news almost every night was Vietnam. It dominated our politics and our culture. It […]
I was raised in a cult. . . the Catholic Church. Okay, so technically it’s not considered a cult. At least not today. But, back in Roman times, it was. And it certainly acts like a cult. Once a year they make you put a carbon cross on your forehead so you look like a
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My head was hurting. A lot. Not quite to the point of wanting to throw up, but close. Not a migraine which I do not get. It was a sinus headache, which I do get thanks to some unpleasant encounters with a baseball during my childhood. I have Tylenol for such occasions, but it was
All twenty-four sets of eyes watched me closely as I lit the match. I lit the paper on fire, placed it in the bottle, and put a hard boiled egg on the opening. As the paper burned and smoked, the egg, slowly at first then more quickly, squeezed itself into the bottle as if some
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“Jerome Bernard Parent, what are you doing?” my mother asked. Uh oh. Full name. I’m in trouble. “I’m just reading,” I said, showing her the book. “That’s rude for a guest to be doing. Now go outside with the other kids and play.” “All right,” I said. “In a minute.” I peeked down the stairs.
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I came out of the Sears optometrist’s room and saw my mother clearly for the first time in memory. “You have freckles,” I said. My vision had certainly changed. Later, I would find out that these words hurt her feelings. My mother, red-headed and of German ancestry, had a lot of freckles. Like me, she
Vision Issues: A Cock-Eyed World View Read More »