A rubber band nicked my arm between my elbow and my St. Hugh’s uniform sleeve and fell to the floor beside my desk. I turned around and shot a glare at Harry Ferguson, but he and the rest of the class stared, slack-jawed over my shoulder. I twisted forward in time to...
Like every morning, I pedaled hell-bent down Dinner Key Marina’s Pier 1, nearly rattling the teeth out of my head. Dad’s never-ending boat chores and a night spent cohabiting the aft cabin with a spider the size of my hand sloughed off me. I could almost see Dad’s...
Sign up to get my blogs in your e-mail at right! Type your e-mail address in the box, then click on “Subscribe.” Station wagons puttered past me, hauling my classmates from St. Hugh’s. I scuffed my saddle shoes along the sandy berm of Charles Street, the...
A rubber band nicked my arm between my elbow and my St. Hugh’s uniform sleeve and fell to the floor beside my desk. I turned around and shot a glare at Harry Ferguson, but he and the rest of the class stared, slack-jawed over my shoulder. I twisted forward in time to...
I was an eleven-year-old living on a sailboat in 1969, a year of precarious calm sandwiched between Miami, Florida, race riots in 1968 and 1970. Simon and Garfunkel’s Mrs. Robinson blasted from everybody’s radio but ours because Dad listened to PBS’s moldy...
