This was actually a no-no, but remember once I went to work with ol’Rodger the Dodger, on the train, from London to central Detroit. The trains go through the scary tunnel that runs underneath the river. So, here I am on this freight train barrelling down the track towards an opening that as we quickly approach does not look like we’ll fit… he laughed and … Continue reading A Letter From A Poor Old Widow In Her Weeds
The year was 2002, the year after Mom died, and for the first time since I was 19 years I was back home, back in Dodge. Not right in my “home”, an apartment in town, actually, on the other side of the river from my actual home. It, I suppose, has become our families response to death, and the grief of, to come together, to … Continue reading Hunting For The American Me
These stories do not just exist in little packages, never changing. Stories are just not like that. They are entities onto themselves as you grow and change. A decade or more ago now, someone like Aunt Margaret was of no relevance to me and I didn’t care at that time that I didn’t know more about her. Now she is very relevant. Continue reading The Mysterious Margaret
Up early this morning and watched the sunrise over the old Norway Spruce and was thinking how in this house I could walk around blind and still know where I am. Our family has celebrated 115 years of Christmas’ in this old farmhouse. The table where we ate our festive feast is as much a fixture as the knule post at the bottom of the stairs. It is … Continue reading Christmas back in Dodge
Ok, so I too dream of being a writer. Which I suppose in this venue is akin to admitting you like flying at a flight school. More on that later. First, a couple of stories. I always thought that writers wrote fiction. Scholars and famous people wrote Memoirs and such. Who would want to read about little old me and my life? Yet, why not. … Continue reading What dreams may come
Here is the first of the Old Photos. The beach shots are late 1930’s – some shots early 1940’s. The others range. The baby pic I know would have been about 1909 – the year Grandpa D was born. I actually still have the camera some of the shots were taken with – Grandpa D’s Kodak Jiffy Six-20. Grandpa was too old during WWII for … Continue reading Old Photos
Tonight will be the 11th anniversary of my Moms death. At only 54 years old, and a new Grandma only 2 months, at 5:45 pm my Mom passed away at home with all of us around her. I remember the old Maple out front was still golden. Enya was playing on the CD player, and Dad had just told Mom, finally, that he was ready to … Continue reading One by One
by PaulaB 