Tag: memoir

Nine Machetes and an Earring

When I was a boy, one of the things I loved most was a collection of 45-records, passed on to my Grandma Ruth from her dad’s jukebox and pinball machine distribution business based in Silverton, a small Oregon town in the Willamette valley an…

A Path Into Yoga: Part Three

Western medicine couldn’t heal my body. The realization of that, along with my acceptance of it, slowly sunk into my bones. A couple of months after my last cortisone injection, I tried a “medical yoga” class, a synthesis of restorative yoga and physical therapy…

A Path Into Yoga: Part Two

For a few years I took what extra time, energy, and “stolen moments” I had, and poured it into creating a fantasy world – literally – and writing a young adult story set in that world. If only I could get this published, I…

A Path Into Yoga: Part One

The ego-mind lives in fear of so much that cannot be avoided or controlled: change, failure, loss, weakness, judgment, shame, pain, and death. My ego-mind, for instance, does not want you to know that I have a son who I was never there for….

Impaled Digits

Originally posted on C.M. Rivers:
Growing up, I had the privilege of enduring several ingrown toenail surgeries, which culminated in having a third of the nail removed on each of my big toes.  Of course, by that time I was reading a magazine…

Fudge

Originally posted on C.M. Rivers:
I came across the recipe in your old index card box, alphabetically misplaced between Fruitcake and Fritter Batter. “I miss you”, I said aloud as I measured out the sugar, butter, salt and evaporated milk. The cat looked…

Knick-Knacks

I remember my mom yelling at my dad through the phone, and wondering when I might get to meet him.  I remember meeting him, the sound of his laugh, the slope of his shoulder, how he rubbed his feet together at the end of…

Impaled Digits

Growing up, I had the privilege of enduring several ingrown toenail surgeries, which culminated in having a third of the nail removed on each of my big toes.  Of course, by that time I was reading a magazine and whistling to myself while blood…

Bittersweet: A Portrait of Professional Cooking

The kitchen end of the restaurant business is a fascinating industry to work in, if you’re fascinated with minds warped by the toll of long hours, intense stress, and hearing the same songs ooze out of grease-addled radio speakers. Then there are the bodies…

Grandma, Food, and Cancer

I grew up in a food stamp house, allergic to milk, with a vegetarian mother and no television.  Books, cats, and a hugely-overactive imagination were my entertainment.  Once a week my mom would take me to the library and I’d check out so many books…

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