In fiction you are supposed to make stuff up, I heard, and mix it real careful with stuff that happened and have a big disclaimer at the beginning about how none of this can be construed to resemble the life of any person living or dead except by coincidence, and as long as you change the names you can get by with it. Which works fine except in my case I want to tell a fiction about my grandma Macie and the names are part of it, you see.Read More
THINGS I KNOW are things I’ve been told or things I pieced together and repeated out loud enough times that I can no longer discern fact from imagination.
My parents met and married in Hawaii. She wore a baby yellow shift dress, though, I didn’t see it until three decades later so maybe it was just yellowed. Did the sleeves bell? Did the hem curve?
We always had the cherry fold-down desk. A writing desk, with all of my father's secrets in it. When we were children, we were sure there was a gun in that third locked drawer. We could try and look into that drawer, but there were so many papers and folders and bits of slide presentations that we could hardly get that second drawer open to look inside. Mostly we didn't dare to.