The sharper-eyed readers of USR may have noticed that my column, Exhibit A hasn’t run a new entry in… I don’t know how long. I could easily look up the exact amount of time, but I haven’t the heart or energy. A nervous breakdown will do that to you. I do know that my three regular readers have given up on me. One because he died, another because she got
I was driving down the west end of Fillmore when I heard a loud pop. I watched in horror as the door, which had been securely fastened to the luggage rack on top of my Taurus station wagon, slid off and into the street. I quickly pulled into a parking lot on my right. “Stay in the car,” I told my sons. Then, dodging traffic, I ran into the street
I am alive today, and you probably are as well, because of antibiotics, vaccines, and an infrastructure that is unparalleled in history. As a percentage, fewer people die from communicable disease and starvation than at any time in history. And many of those contemporary deaths are due to lack of proper water and sewage treatment. In other words, they are preventable. This gift of life is due to the work
I was four years old, and we lived on the top floor of a fisherman’s house in Cape Cod, Massachusetts. I could see the ocean from my window, and our landlord often brought us fresh seafood. My father, a USAF radar operator, worked lots of seven day weeks and double shifts because of the Cold War and Korea. My mother was stuck at home, alone with no friends or family
I was seven years old, walking home from school for the second time that day. School was literally across the street, and Sister Marie sent me home to change my pants again. I had been sitting in my chair practicing my handwriting when the girl behind me screeched because of the urine that was dripping off of my chair and splashing onto her shoes. Unlike the first time, I wasn’t
