e c l e c t i c a
n o n f i c t i o n
e c l e c t i c a
n o n f i c t i o n
This bistro matches the France I've seen in books and movies. Halfway up the windows, linen café curtains hang on brass rods. Sunlight inches up from the ground to reveal the woodgrain on bentwood chairs. Ironed white tablecloths, fabric napkins, porcelain plates—not Corelle or plastic—and a pot of pungent yellow mustard at the table's center. A tiny kitchen, just the one waitress speaking to an invisible chef, retrieving plates, serving diners contentedly eating lunch.
Adrienne Perry
Give Them Any Reason to Celebrate
I was on edge during this first afternoon with Joanna and Yoni. As we toured the Old City, I walked behind Joanna through the Jewish, Christian, and Muslim quarters while she listened to Yoni's commentary. I didn't take my eyes off her for a second. Fueled by adrenalin, I was on high alert, my head on a swivel, trying to watch both everyone in front and behind us, especially in the tight and crowded spaces of the markets along the Via Dolorosa. By the end of the day, I was exhausted.
Richard W. Fields
What I did not understand then—what took me years to see—was a woman who has spent 30 years not saying what she thinks does not simply stop doing that because she moves to Texas.
Curtis C. Morgan
I began to doubt my own words. I had no reason to make up a story, but how could that dent NOT be in the rear of my car? Fears grew quickly. Was I finally losing this notable grasp I've had on lucidity? Alzheimer's? Senility? I went into a tailspin. I tried to tell a close friend, but he mocked me by simply saying an eye-rolling "Good luck." No comfort there, which only confirmed my worst fears. I was wrong. I was losing it. Until you reach these high age numbers, you have no idea how the mind can play tricks. I was devastated. But it haunted me and replayed over and over in my mind. I was certain my memory was accurate. And I felt terribly alone.
Beverly Jackson
Paul, please know how much I have always envied the spontaneity and joy with which you moved through your life: your quick and easy friendships, your romances, the risks you took, and the rules you broke. The latter not without consequences, at least regarding your failed marriages. My life has proceeded along a much more stable track. My wife of 50 years and change sits beside me, threading a needle so I can sew on a button. What we have has a name: domestic married bliss.
Chris Ringwalt
