Amidst the current situation, a lot of people are talking and writing about their struggle to find meaning, a way to live through what appears to some like very possibly end times. In my search for strength, I frequently land on 1968.
The day after the accident, I volunteered to call the funeral parlor, to arrange for you to see her body.
The mortician replied (never before or since have I heard such stillness in a voice,) “That’s not a good idea.
As we watched our young children reverently scatter my mother’s fake ashes on the sand dunes surrounding the beach cabin, clutching the powdery mix in their small hands first to their hearts, and then releasing it, I knew that someday I might have to tell them what happened to the real ashes.
Every Thanksgiving, I think of Hercules. But not the Greek hero. My Hercules was a magnificent fifty pound Broad Breasted Bronze Turkey, the one and only turkey on the farm where I lived. Which created some problems.
I presented “The Cumberland Suite” at the Nevada Theatre in Nevada City, CA on October 18, 2013. Inspired by a journal written by my great-great-great grandmother, Priscilla Beall McKaig, it’s an American story, a personal history of the Civil War and its aftermath, told through song, music, and spoken word.