The entire surface, about ten feet across and two feet deep, was covered – giving it the appearance of a public library used book sale. A stark contrast to Mom’s purpose for the space, as a buffet to serve our supersized family delicious meats, casseroles and salad.
My sister Catherine and I were walking along the bumper-to-bumper beach highway and turned onto a road running next to some birthday cake colored cottages. We followed an opening in the trees to a huge sundial, maybe 15 feet tall and 30 feet in diameter. Curious, we looked to where the shadow fell…
The first thing I noticed about the man was his turbulence. He didn’t walk into the store so much as take it over. His presence was like a low voltage force that could ramp up in power without warning.
Since Lily Belle was especially good, sacrificing valuable naptime to accompany me, I gave her extra liver treats. Coffee was the only treat her human needed.
For as long as I can remember, I have been borderline obsessed with reading. From studying the cereal box as a child, to craning my neck so I could make out messages on billboards. Words are like a combination lock for me, when I hear it click open, I discover…What?
The 180-pound European Great Dane lumbered into the psychiatric hospital’s recreational area, which looked a lot like an enclosed parking garage. He glanced around briefly at the dozen or so male patients gathered for the therapy visit, then elegantly lowered his horse-sized body to the ground.
It was one of those soggy Saturdays and, as I stepped out of my vehicle in the city parking garage, a huge drip from a crack in the ceiling hit my forehead. I thought this day would have been better suited for curling up with one of my books instead of talking about them.
I was at the dinner table with my new Fargo, North Dakota friend and her family, when I looked around at their curious faces. . .They were all characters from my friend’s memoir, So Many Africas, and it was like going back stage on a film set and interviewing the cast.
The 86 year old paused when I asked how many books he had written. He looked down at first, then up toward the ceiling as if retrieving that bit of information. Then, with a voice laden with his native Alabama, he answered, “I think it’s 34.”
A series of urgent questions on a late August weekend in 2005 determined the fate of a quarter of a million pets in America. . . . For the third time in six weeks, residents had to ask, “Do we go? Do we stay? What are our options?” Every pet’s life depended on how their people answered.
