“Incoherent,” she paused. “The sick man was incoherent.” “Incoherent.” My left arm curled around the top of the page hiding a small scrap of paper. On the paper several words were written in tiny print. She continued with “incomprehensible,” “divisible” and 17 other...
Thanksgiving 1964, one I’ll never forget. I was 14 years old. Mother was decidedly against it. “They’re different, Lane, not like us,” she said. “I don’t mean that they’re bad. They aren’t… just different. They’ll have family and friends down from Jackson and...
I thought the day would never end. The whole class had drawn on incessantly about every Christmas they had ever had, about every gift they had ever received and what they were wishing for this year. Each one was like a punch in my belly. Mrs. Priddy told of snow and...
