When my brother Frank told me that he planned to…

When my great-grandmother died…

“Your momma wears combat boots!”

The human longing for continuity…

Though the joint ain’t officially open…

When our son Wes was three-years-old…

Halloween in our town has never been for scaredy-cats…

If I’d been the mother of girls…

My sons Mike and Justin visited…

What a day! Wrigley Field…

At eighty-one, after two heart attacks…

I was born and grew up in a train town.

In 1958 I was a tall, awkward left-handed…

I don’t know when WhiskerFace first arrived…

When we were young, my sisters and I…

I’m not exactly sure when the Aztec calendar…

Someone’s built a nest in the mouth…

On an August Sunday in 1953…

I have a bump on my finger…

Artist has never been an identity…