My father was an authoritarian. When I screwed up, the consequences were swift. That’s how I expect justice to roll.
I got my first ticket when I was 16 in suburban Virginia. I could have contested it. I didn’t. I sniffled. I paid the ticket. I endured a weeklong harangue by my father. Continue reading Of Privilege & Police (#168)
It’s Father’s Day in the United States. Oh, yay.
If you’re here looking for a feel-good, mushy post, keep looking. Continue reading Character (#59)
One of my sisters is a year older than I am. One of my sisters is a year younger. Older Sister is petite. I am not. By the time she was four and I was three, we were frequently mistaken for twins. I loved it. She hated it. Continue reading Such Devoted Sisters (#46)
Spring was my mother’s favorite time of the year. “Look! Forsythia!” she’d yell at the first sight of the yellow bushes in March. More exclamations soon followed:
“Look, crocuses!” Continue reading Forsythia (#45)
One of my favorite shows is So You Think You Can Dance. The choreography is incredible, and the level of talent among the finalists is outstanding. The one thing I hate? The auditions. Continue reading White Assholes (#39)
