I want one of those shakes right now, so creamy and melty and perfect for a scorching summer day. And that was before our family had air conditioning too. And now I don't run my AC because I'm too poor, and it's ninety degrees, and all I want is that cool chocolate shake sliding down my throat. And my hands around that chilled metal container. And to sit in air conditioning on those high stools, and the cooks shouting, and the waitresses running, and the greasy man sitting next to me, and my…

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Goulash Pharmacy was an old school pharmacy, around which the world built up a bustling strip mall. Yes, it held all of the typical medications and knickknacks found at Walgreen's, but Goulash had a little diner in the back, complete with robin's egg blue counters and booths and vinyl stools to match, serving up pancakes, hash browns, burgers, grilled cheese, and the biggest shakes a girl could ever want.

My siblings and I sporadically received a pittance of allowance money;…

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Is it bad that my earliest memory is a painful one? 

I was three and a half years old (because half years held much greater importance in those days), and I was playing with the boys, Dan and Steven, who were each a full year older than me. They were showing off, as boys always do (even these days), by leaping from a desk to a chair to another chair to a bed; already a gender activist, I decided that I could jump equally well, and I should be given a turn.

But…

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Our house is perched atop a gentle hill, just steep enough that my five-year-old self loved rolling down or sprinting and falling the remaining length. At the bottom of the hill stood the site of several "Swing Olympics", where my siblings and I performed countless acrobatic feats, sticking almost every dismount. To the right of the "Swing Stadium" stood the backstop, which was rusted over with age and used primarily as a soccer goal.

But the best part of our backyard was…

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Though a small troupe, the Bolter Basement Productions put on grand shows, many of which were "illegally" documented by home video. The three young performers, my sister, my brother, and I, bravely played martians and mailmen and old men and young stars and teachers and anyone else we imagined into existence. We printed tickets and programs for our faithful audience of two, and each show was well-received with hugs and cheers.

I envy our carefree creativity now. Now that I am…

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On the third day of Christmas, there’s rumor I should be acquiring three French hens. Egg-laying birds or yappy, pecking, tres chic women: I want neither.

 

However, we can talk French: I’m a big fan of French fries, French toast, French kisses (when I was 14), and the French Open in tennis which I experienced…

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As the dawning light awakens

from - the eye to dreaming eye,

with a Kookaburra on high, while the

early morning sun rises over the river-

A small girls silvery shadow ,

swims silently away from my ankles.

As the heats…

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The raging river flows
swaying from left to right,

Seasonal reflections run
on the wet street -
Saden Hussain is dead.

Young hotel maid is
repositioning the blossom jar

While the sound of new born
rain resonate"s , before it
leaves the cloud...

Reflections

by Fred Meyer



As I grow older, when I do look in the mirror in the morning, I see more and more of my father’s physical characteristics reflecting back at me—and it disgusts and torments me. I see more and more of his hair, his eyes, his ears, his nose, his lips, and his whiskers. I don’t look in the mirror much these days.



As I grow older, while reflecting on my actions before I go to bed each night, I see less and less of my father’s behaviors… Continue