My father was not impressed with my first triumphant literary efforts, nor with the staple-bound magazines in which they appeared: Modine Gunch and Road Apple Review.
Here in this place of house upon house, on this asphalt path hemmed by parkway and train tracks, a beauty as enchanted as I have ever seen.
There I see, not only reflected but clarified and articulated in ways I hadn’t imagined possible, the inside of myself.
On November 20, 2011, I became the first person in my family to walk Brzeziny’s slanting, potholed streets in nearly seventy years.
I’m not the only one to equate supporting characters with vegetables.
