Category Archives: Father

For me, the center of my house was the kitchen. At first our kitchen was this dreadful afterthought of a growth hung onto the side of the dining room of our 1802 farm house. After some years, my parents put on “the addition”, a brand-new kitchen with windows to the outside, new appliances, darkly stainedContinue Reading

There is a pot on the stove, steam rising. A dry smell emits itself and the children ask, “What’s for dinner?” Potatoes and Chicken. Potatoes and beef. Potatoes and a pork chop. My favorite: potatoes and cottage cheese. My mother is a terrible cook. My father has a sensitive stomach which is always called anContinue Reading

Where I am from (I really wish I had more photos–working on it) I am from the Hackensack River and its tributary, the creek which runs under Baylor Avenue. I am from the dams we built there, to clog up the water flow so we felt like civil engineers. I am from mosquitoes which hatchedContinue Reading