Peripheral Senses_Too Many Choices_Family Traditions_The Longest Day
Catalog Guide:
Peripheral Senses
TW: terrorismHer fingers are trembling when she presses the keys. Just three numbers, and for that she needs three tries. “911, what’s your emergency?” The familiar refrain from TV shows. Nothing she’s ever had to hear, herself, before. “This is an anonymous tip,” she says, feeling foolish, instantly. One doesn’t have to say their tip is anonymous. One merely doesn’t give one’s name. Lessons for a next time. “There are bombs in the Garden. Hurry. You must hurry. Get them out. There’s no time,” she says, her voice somewhere between a scream and a whisper. The images are flashing in her mind, e...
Too Many Choices
TOO MANY CHOICES In the early days of fast food establishments, things were simple. Most burger stands offered just hamburgers, cheeseburgers, fries, soda, and milkshakes. That was it. And it was all you needed. Even the buildings were simple, most just small stands with windows to place and receive your orders, with just an enclosure for a kitchen. You sat on an outside bench to eat, or in your car. Think of drive-ins without carhops.Before long, more choices were on the menu. Bigger fancier double burgers, secret sauce, chicken and fish sandwiches, coffee and tea, then breakfast sandwiches....
Family Traditions
That’s the thing about this city, there’s more than one reason it earned the nickname Sin City. You can’t write about Las Vegas, Nevada without giving credit where credit is due. Most of which belongs to the caginess of one very large, very extended east coast based family. That family and it's role in building such a mega-glamour capitol from desert sand captured my imagination and was the sole reason for my sixty year intrigue with the city.By the time my own extended family discovered that ill-gotten electric city in the 60s, Vegas was in its hey-day. We fell in love with the sunbaked wond...
The Longest Day
The date June 21, 2018 is tattooed into my mind forever. I sit at the big table in www.onedoor.ccthe dining room, years later, as the day breaks. The sun pushes through the thin kitchen blinds and I blink, remembering the exact scene years earlier. Connor, shaggy hair hiding his eyes, black t-shirt, way too loose as always.My husband walks downstairs at 7:15 am. Thump, thump, thump, as he always does. Predictable, if nothing else. Trustworthy. Safe.“How long have you been up?” he asks, but he can sense from my face that he won’t get an answer. “The house feels empty without Lydia,” he continues, unperturbe...