Sarcoxie Days

9/7/14  I’m on my way home!  Yay!  Yesterday we went to breakfast at The Hungry House with Maxine.  It was raining and cold after the 90 degree heat of the day before – a shock to find it in the 60’s.  The Hungry House is the only restaurant anywhere near…

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Unforgettable

How many times have you heard something billed as unforgettable?  How many times have you forgotten that something?  I consider it false advertising, as in the case of E‘s promotion of the Eric and Jessie Game On’s “unforgettable” season finale.  Not only will I personally find it forgettable, because I don’t follow…

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When I Was A Bully

Her name was Marie.  We were in first grade at a Catholic School in a small Midwestern town. It doesn’t matter where we were or how old we were.  My classmates and I were bullies.  We weren’t just mean we were cruel.  I wasn’t friends with Marie, but I’ve never…

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After All These Years Say Goodbye to Tiny Tears

On a shelf in my closet hidden in a white plastic bag are my dolls.  They’ve been in that bag on that shelf for seventeen years.  Before that, they were on another shelf in another closet for twelve years.  Before that?  Well, who knows.  They were probably in a box…

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Family Therapy in The House of Dust, Part Nine, The Rest of the Trip

On Tuesday Sue and I head to Utica because there is a place there that does wine tasting and features wine from a local winery.  The entire time I lived in IllinoisI don’t think I was ever in the town of Utica unless it was to pass through to get…

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The Pink Nightshirt

Downsizing living quarters is never easy.  During the pre-transition, packing stage it’s a constant battle over what to keep and what to let go.  Will I need it?  Have I used it in the last six months?  Did I even remember I had this? Many items, even ones I’ve had…

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Family Therapy in The House of Dust, Part Six

We return to what I’ve come to think of as The House of Dust.  Two years unoccupied.  We opened the windows to air the house out when we arrived on Friday.  I vacuumed on Saturday.  Why does the house smell even worse?  Steve says it’s that vacuum cleaner.  He’s certain…

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Family Therapy in The House of Dust, Part Five

We go into the living room to chat some more.  Of course Mom can’t hear anything even when someone shouts.  No one is sitting close to her to repeat everything so she just misses most of it.  She’s gone to the bathroom three or four times.  She’s sat down and…

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Family Therapy in The House of Dust, Part Three

        Mom launches into a reminiscence about her own parents.  Her mother had to get up every morning and make biscuits from scratch on an old wood cook stove.  My grandfather would sit on a straight-backed chair next to the stove and rock back and forth on the back legs…

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Have You Been Where Your Parents Were Born?

Yes, I have been to Southwest Missouri many times.  My dad grew up on a farm on “the prairie” during The Great Depression.  He was the eldest of five children and was raised in the house his grandfather built.  The house isn’t there any more.  His brother inherited it and he…

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