I am an only child. On the Meyer-Briggs personality scale, I am an ENFJ (if that means anything to you). I am a millennial raised by two baby-boomers. I am a small town, Midwest girl. In four sentences, I have clearly defined myself. How disappointing. Growing up, I was my own frontier, I spent so… Continue reading The Millennial’s New Clothes
After my Grandpa’s memorial service, we all crowded into my Grandma’s condo, family spilling out the back patio and the front entrance. Many of the faces there I hadn’t seen in months or years. A few people I had never met before. Kids ran around; adults ate and talked and drank and laughed loudly. More… Continue reading The Funeral (Part 2)
I hesitate to write this. There is nothing I can add that hasn’t already been said about my Grandpa. Here, I am speaking of the Reverend Norman Heintz, my mother’s father. Many people knew and loved him throughout his life and ministry. Last December, on the trip to say goodbye to a man we dearly… Continue reading The Funeral (Part 1)
When I was a kid (I feel like a lot of my writing begins with this phrase), I loved to read and to write. I read and I read and I read. I wrote and I wrote and I wrote. I didn’t care if my writing was weird or stupid. I proudly showed anyone I… Continue reading Writing Underground
“I’ve something to show ya,” Grandpa would say, His hushed voice just above a whisper. Dutifully I would follow him, And sit on his uncomfortable lap, Trapped by his arms on both sides That are holding a book in front of me, In his favorite, blue-plaid chair. Undoubtedly, The book would be a Nature… Continue reading “I’ve Got Something to Show Ya.”
In middle school, I struggled, as many kids do, to fit in. It was a futile battle. Even if I was not so blessed to have glasses to fix my eye sight and diabolically expensive braces to fix my overbite, I would never be cool. My mom and I shopped for my clothes at K-mart,… Continue reading When a Satanist Calls you “Friend”
Finding Love in Wonton Soup 