e c l e c t i c a n o n f i c t i o n
(Click on the title to view the whole piece)
My Father, in the Dark
Just as it did to me when he actually was home, angry at I no longer remember what, Dad's baritone voice could intimidate an audience: "Get this and get it straight," he snarled. "Crime's a sucker's road and those who travel it wind up in the gutter, the prison or the grave."
Anthony J. Mohr
Off the Grid
The old lady looked at the boy sitting in the grocery cart, his pudgy hands and face covered in rainbow carnage, and she nodded kindly. It was all too obvious that little Tommy was like this all the time, and his mother simply made excuses for his horrible behavior. Somehow the innocent angel that emerged from her loins just a few short years ago had transformed into a Third World dictator with a sugar addiction. And his mother had been assigned the unenviable position of public-relations director for the regime.
The Perfect Job for a Bleeding Heart Liberal
Finding a person who is able to compassionately work with our student population while adhering to the strict security and safety behavioral standards is difficult. If I err on the side of hiring a person too compassionate, he ends up siding with students who complain about unnecessary searches and gets walked off the premises, having his security clearance pulled. If I err on the side of someone too cognizant of the inherent dangers of working with convicted felons, he refers to our students as "Those People" and keeps a wary eye on the exit door at all times.
Reality Strikes Again!
Within a day out to sea, there came the first of those ferocious winds so characteristic of the Atlantic in that season. And with it arrived the buffeting of the huge ship, accompanied by the faltering little voice of our six-year old son. His refrain, in a querying, singsong chant, remains one we repeat even to this day: "Mommie, Mommie, why the United Stakes is tipping?"
Julia Braun Kessler