From Rags to Redemption_When would morning come?_Moon Over Pensacola_Loren and Grandpa
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From Rags to Redemptiowww.onedoor.ccn
I assumed the mask was for keeping the dust out of his lungs. Here in Alva, Oklahoma it was pretty normal at the time. I hated those hideous-looking things. They always ruined my makeup and made me question what the point was. They made it hard to breathe anyway, so how was that any better than the dust? We were all sick and tired of wearing them, fed up with the economy, and desperate for any kind of change just to break the monotony of the Hoover years.The fine, beige particles bellowed through the door of the bank in a small cloud as the young man closed it behind him. It covered his eyebro...
When would morning come?
We sat on the beach and watched a glorious sunrise. The sand was slightly damp from a shower of rain earlier that morning. As the sun rose higher and higher in the sky we promised to stay in touch. Jenna and I had been friends for several decades. We had picked up the same ragged bunny in kindergarten and refused to give it to the other. The compromise had been to play together. I wanted bunny to make tea and Jenna wanted bunny to go climb a mountain. As we grew up we always wanted different things and somehow that was how we remained friends. We were always both so curious and we could share ...
Moon Over Pensacola
Warning: this story contains foul language "C'mon, it'll be fun," Jack says, knocking back another Jaeger shot. I eye my own shot apprehensively, not sure if I need to be this drunk in a hurricane. We drank the whole way from Abilene, 12 hours and 26 minutes of lite beer and Jimmy Buffet's greatest hits ( the only tape Jack has left kicking around in his '84 Nissan 720) and him trying to convince me. Now, as the sky grows dark outside the tempered glass windows of the bar, I am far less convinced than I was back in Texas. Everything in this bar is sticky. the bar top, the floor, even the jack...
Loren and Grandpa
As I pour coffee into my favorite black mug, I recall the time I went on vacation to my grandparents' place. I was quite young at that time, barely 8 years old, but I was aware of my surroundings. Their place was built at the beginning of the 20th century, when my grandma's father, my grand grandfather, was still a young man. Whenever I think of their house, I remember the smell of wood and incense, and I can't help but remember all those landscape paintings on their house's walls. Since her father died, my grandma had been collecting those paintings. She told me once that her father's desire ...