Migratory Fondness

“There are places I remember All my life, though some have changed Some forever, not for better Some have gone, … More

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The Shocking Stocking Caper

Testing each step, I found the carpet in the living room and made for the fireplace. It was so dark I could barely see the outlines of furniture. “Ouch!” I whispered as a toe found Mom’s steel ashtray. “Oomph!” as my tummy ran into Dad’s music stand. Finally, I made contact with the hearth. One, two, three stockings I felt. Excitedly, I grasped mine. It was full of unseen wonders. Curious to know what all lay inside, I stuck to the mission, feeling around until a likely suspect came to my grasp. It had to be chocolate, I just knew it.

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Once Upon a Small Desert Town

Back when television consisted of four or five channels, with midday programming limited to soaps, we depended on an active imagination to avoid idleness. My dad loved to hear me say “I’m bored”. It gave him a break, because he sentenced me to hard labor if I dared whine “there’s nothing to do!”. There was no recourse; if I said it, he had an instant cure for boredom: a long list of chores. Thanks to Dad, I learned to pursue creative endeavours and invent adventures.

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