It’s been said there are two varieties of people that tell the truth: drunk people and little kids. While that’s true, I know someone else who tells the truth, and she ain’t drunk and she ain’t little. It’s Barb. Some of you know Barb. She spent more years at the Co-op than I did, and it’s only people with Very Thick Skin that can endure a decade + in that place. I don’t even know where to start. I guess I should introduce you since you might not know her. She’s tall, with skinny little kildee bird legs (you can thank Gary Hicks for that particular detail). She’s got a grin a mile wide and dancing eyes behind gold rimmed glasses. We never ran out of things to talk about (sometimes it was a contest who could talk the most), because we were forever recommending books to one another. And chattering about places to eat. We shared a similar attitude about road trips: open the door and you’ll find us parked in the front seat. We love the beach, especially Charleston, and we constantly reminded each other of how much time before our next trip. Barb doesn’t sneeze once or twice-she sneezes five or six times in a row. It’s remarkable. I’ve never met anybody that customarily did that. But Barb does. Once…
This is an old story, one I have held off on publishing. I had originally called it “But”, however when I came to this writing prompt, it was a perfect fit. He never laid a hand on me. It’s been ten years, but the memory of him still breaks me out in a sweat. When he meets people and finds out they know me, I’m brushed off with a, “Oh, we went out a few times.” I lived with him for two years. We traveled the continent together. We talked nearly every day for over six years. I loved him, because he made me. Because I didn’t know any better. I thought the constant struggle for air was a form of love. This story is nearly impossible to write. I’ve had him out of my head for quite awhile, until a month or so ago, when in walked the director for the Women’s Center in Jefferson County. I try to make conversation while plugging in information on the QuickBooks invoice because it makes people feel more comfortable and it makes time go faster. There ain’t nothin’ quick about QuickBooks. She was so confident in her mannerisms, just the way she carried herself and the way she spoke. She was approachable but businesslike and I found myself confiding in her. “So what does your organization do? Provide shelter to women coming from domestic…
I try to make my blog posts about me. Not only because I’m vain and self-centered (what? Y’all thought I didn’t know??) but because every English teacher I’ve ever had stressed that you have to write about what you know. And I know me. I was striving to name things I felt like I had conquered and it all seemed like such a sham. People tell me I’m competitive, but I don’t see it. I just want everybody to work as hard as me so we can get the desired result quicker. If one man isn’t rowing, it puts a strain on the rest of the crew to pull his weight. I can’t stand people who take up space and don’t contribute. I realized I haven’t conquered much when I set down to it. There’s so much unfinished business out there. But let me tell you, I just finished a book by someone who has. Jewel Kilcher. She frankly amazes me. She fended pretty much for herself growing up in Alaska. She moved to Hawaii for a semester, staying with her aunt, just to try something different. When that didn’t work out, she got the money up and came home. She was yodeling in bars with her daddy when she wasn’t any bigger than a minute. She hitchhiked all over Alaska as a…