I’ve been staying with my adult daughter and her husband for the last three months, while we’ve all be sheltering at home under the Coronavirus. The other day I asked her: “Was I a good father to you?” “Why are you asking me this again?” she asked. “Why do you still need reassurance about this?”…
DetailsWhen I was a young guy about when I was first starting a family, my dream was that I wanted to my own residential camp. Luckily, my wife was very understanding. One summer when our children were still young, I took a job at a private camp in Minnesota as canoe trips director. Margaret…
DetailsMy granddaughter Jessica was the one who inspired me to write my stories. “What was life like when you were a boy, Grandpa Jerry?” she started asking me last year. “What were some favorite games you played with your friends? What did you spend your allowance on? What were your parents and grandparents like?” As…
DetailsBy Guest Blogger Michael Witkovsky (or as I like to call him, “my son the psychiatrist) It may have been Wendell Barry who would admonished us to “first, build a table.” I always wondered why chairs were not the first. No reason is given. My guess is that chairs are single purposed (lounge, dining,…
DetailsMy parents took care of me. I lacked for nothing. But Birthdays? They just weren’t a big deal in our house when I was growing up. My early years were a time of family crisis. My mom died when I was only three. I lived with my dad’s sister after that, until I was…
DetailsThe place next to me is empty. The passenger seat in the car. The chair at the kitchen table. The place next to me in bed. Margaret, my wife for 52 years, was always there, through the rough times and good times. We built a family: a son and daughter, their spouses and children–our…
DetailsGrandma would clamp the grinder onto the edge of her kitchen table. She would boil the fish. My job was to take the fish after it cooled and grind it and pick out the bones. I was the bone-picker and grinder. While I was doing that grandma would be making a kugel and brisket, boiled…
DetailsSometimes a writing prompt will take you in a different direction than you expected. My mother died when I was only three. And I wasn’t allowed in my parent’s (my dad and stepmom) bedroom growing up. This prompt was the first in a series of writing prompts for a “Grandparents, Write Your Story” program…
DetailsMy granddaughter Jessica was the one who inspired me to write my stories. “What was life like when you were a boy, Grandpa Jerry?” she started asking me last year. “What were some favorite games you played with your friends? What did you spend your allowance on? What were your parents and grandparents like?” As…
DetailsWhen you’re 13, which put me in 8th grade, you’re able to get a working permit. I’m guessing my mom went to the Alderman’s office to get it. That was the first step to getting my first job. I saved up about $10 from my allowance to buy an old bike, to get…
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