Firehouse Ghost: Unveiling the Other Side

Vic Lazzarini’s ghost scowled at the short, fat-bellied fireman cringing in his jail cell. “Jaku, you sawed-off, lily-livered sneak!” Vic shouted. “Murderer!” He threw what would have been a bone-crunching punch if it hadn’t gone right through the punk’s head. Jaku’s hairy nostrils twitched, his pin-prick eyes darting around the jail cell stinking of urine…

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A Braided Essay: These Dreams of Love III

I Become – Part 3 Twelve years before I fell in love with Barry and a year to the day after Vic’s death on Valentine’s Day, 1985, I felt wrung out with grieving and despairing of ever finding the kind of love I’d found with Vic again. That morning, I awoke in the wee hours,…

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Letter to the Ghosts of Jaku’s Murderer’s Thumbs

What squashed you, Thumbs? Your bully of a boss, Jaku, certainly couldn’t have compressed you playing volleyball, because the only body part Jaku exercised was his mouth—his liar’s lips flapping fast as a hummingbird’s wings. Oh, wait a minute. I’d forgotten about his sticky fingers, which also grabbed wallets, keys and jewelry his coworkers forgot…

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Love in the Lost and Found

In January, 2016, my 94-year-old mom, Ruby, fell in her bathroom in Tucson, Arizona. A blood clot traveled from her hip, still bruised and sore from two falls the previous week, to her brain, causing a massive stroke.  Minutes after the ambulance crew wheeled Mom into the hospital, my brother, John, who’d moved to Tucson…

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Follow Your Dreams

Dreams are today’s answers to tomorrow’s questions. –Edgar Cayce Did you ever dream about insignificant things that actually happened later?  I once dreamed that a plastic planter hanging from a tree outside my window broke and the plant inside it splattered on the ground. The next morning, the planter fell.  Sometimes, I wake up from…

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