I was conceived from the holy ashes of burning Tokyo, mother shuteyed in her sex, father, broken by his fire bombs as he and his soon dead flyboys, nervously
It's funny that today's blog topic was "My Earliest Memory," because right before I saw the email announcing this was the theme for Red Room's blog this week, I was thinking about just th
My Mom always told Me I was about 9 months old and loved to play in the backyard with the kitties...at the old house where I first lived.
Well, as a very small child, it seems I repeatedly attempted to embrace death. On a pony ride, the saddle cinch broke and flipped me beneath the pony, which then went a little berserk, and broke my
My father was a prodigy who left school at age seventeen to go on the road with a big band. At the pinnacle of his career, which occurred when he was twenty years o
It is the musty odor of the basement that I remember the most.
A friend of mine once said, one of the most difficult relationships most of us will ever have will be with our fathers. My earliest memory is of my dad looking over the rai
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