I am not a fancy dame.

Blue-collar is from whence I came.

My parents were the first in college.

The others had more real-life knowledge.

My humor is distinctly low,

Fart jokes I never did outgrow.

Haute couture and haute cuisine

Strike me as markedly obscene.

I’d rather have something I can use

Than a $3000 pair of shoes.

Now when in polite society

I ( Read more... )

Chonny S. painted, sculpted, and drew.

I went to high school with Chonny S.  His real name was Johnny, but he had a Norwegian grandmother who called him Chonny, and it stuck.  Chonny S. was different.  He was an amazing artist.  His notebooks, bookbag, everything he owned in fact were covered in his wild, other-wordly creations.  Chonny S. was also ( Read more... )

Marching band was pure torture.

Our high school didn’t have a dedicated marching band, but once a year for the Potato Bowl Parade (hey, it was North Dakota) our concert band would drag out the uniforms and hit the street to practice marching in straight lines and playing and walking at the same time.

It never went well.

First of all, our uniforms ( Read more... )

I just moved in May, from the suburbs to the city.

I moved from an apartment to an apartment with clean, running water and climate control.  I had the money to hire strapping young men to move my numerous possessions, including comfortable furniture, sanitary cooking utensils, and warm blankets.  Both the old and new apartments are close to well- ( Read more... )

“Dog on the loose!  Dog on the loose!”

Nothing will capture your attention in a veterinary clinic like that urgent cry.

Milo had decided that today was not a good day to get a shot.

Milo was a big boy, 70 pounds of black Lab-mix energy.  About a year old, so full of vim and vigor.  In a truly acrobatic feat of physics, he got out of his collar, ( Read more... )

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed by Thy name.

I bow my head respectfully, as I do every Sunday morning, but I don’t say the words.  I surreptitiously check my watch….we’re right on schedule, and the service should end on time.  I am a church music director, and I’m not a Christian.  The pastor is an old friend.  She knows, but won’t “out” ( Read more... )

You visit my neighborhood and you are afraid.  Your wide, flat eyes see dangerous people.  Brown, black.  Tattooed, pierced.  Titanic dreads, dashikis, burkas, salwar kameez, kente cloth, yarmulkes, angry t-shirts, do-rags.  Men in makeup and bald women.  Silver rings up to the first knuckle.  Leather.

I see the globe, an ( Read more... )

I danced with my tall, handsome baby brother at his wedding.  His new wife comes from money, so we were at a Utah ski lodge in the height of summer.  The ceremony took place on a mountain in a field of wild flowers.  The band was excellent.  Before the wedding, I had told my new sister-in-law there were two things I would not do:  the Chicken Dance ( Read more... )

I had practically memorized Are You There God?  It’s Me, Margaret.

For those of you too young to remember, or those of you of the male persuasion, it was an extremely controversial book by Judy Blume about a pre-adolescent girl who wanted her period.  She wanted it more than anything.  Luckily, I was allowed to read what I liked, and I, like ( Read more... )

Recipe for a Strong Fat Woman

Take a chubby girl.  She should still be tender, without too much psychic bruising.  Throw her into puberty and its attendant weight gain.

Add heaping tablespoons of peer teasing and familial shaming.  Also a pinch of big media.

Apply, one right after the other, portions of Weight Watchers, NutriSystem, TOPS, cabbage ( Read more... )