On the evening of the very last day of 2010, my husband and I zig-zagged our way through the Musashi-Kosugi train station markets where I admired clear plastic boxes of fresh shrimp tempura and soba. Continue reading “A very Japanese New Year (with some moonshine)”
In the year of my early youth when my father was charged with bringing me to the Emporium rooftop for an afternoon of Santa photos and Christmas rides, he bundled me into a series of sweaters and scarves so tight that I began to sweat while riding the 5 Fulton. Continue reading “Father doesn’t always know best”
The ritual post-Thanksgiving writing exercise required that Sister Linda’s third grade class detail the holiday events. Continue reading “Sister Linda did not like my Thanksgiving”
While I was a prolific letter writer during my teenage years, my choices of pen pals were not always wise. Of course, it took a while to dispense of my one prison pen pal, but I finally managed to confine my correspondence to one nice German girl who sent me wonderful photos of her home in Bavaria and from vacations to Spain. Continue reading “Choosing a mail order husband”
At some point after I began Kindergarten, there was a noticeable change in the behavior of my parents. Along with homework and my own awkwardness in social settings, I lost contact with both my mother or father. Continue reading “The space alien’s guide to childhood paranoia”
Somewhere between Dublin and Tokyo, Morning Star School in San Francisco began beating its own cultural drum.