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I got the call that my grandmother was dying on a weekday afternoon. It was a sunny spring day, objectively beautiful. I studied the imposing Gothic church outside my apartment window as I listened to my father’s uncharacteristic silence. When he could finally speak, he told me a priest was on his way.
My grandmother had dementia, so the feeling of losing her wasn’t new. I didn’t ask why this moment was declared as the beginning of her dying. I ended the call and got in my car.
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By James Lawson Moore So, a weird thing happened to me the other day.
It was around 3PM, and I just picked up a half dozen unique donuts from this place at the strip mall near my house at school, called Amazing Glazed (corny name, but they have good ice cream and coffee so who’s complaining?). I don’t have a car and my girl had a class down in Norfolk, so I had about a 12-minute walk back to the house, right? I make this trip all the time, so what’s the worry? The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Mary Oliver once said Walt Whitman was the brother she never had. He died more than 40 years before she was born. What is it about art that can make us feel so close to the artist? The ability of one human being to capture the embodied experience of being human in a way that touches the depths of the observer's soul, that allows them to feel understood by a stranger, is a paradoxical kind of intimacy.
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By George Leipold I lost my job on a cold January day. I went to work. I was called into a meeting. Just me and the owner.
“This may come as a shock to you, but this is the last day of Roxberry Juice.” He said it with a finality that rang in my ears like a church bell calling its followers into service. This is your last day. Two years of my life just slipped down the drain of a three chamber metal restaurant sink in a singular sentence. Another casualty of the pandemic. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
By Dawn Corrigan Years ago, I was taking my cousin on a day trip to New York City, where both our fathers had grown up. She was my first cousin once removed, her father my father’s uncle, but somewhere along the way the generational lines had crossed, and she was two years younger than me.
We weren’t children—I was 29, she 27—and she’d been to the City before. Nonetheless, the family was abuzz, as though Vicky were a grade-schooler on her way to summer camp, or about to attend her first sleepover. Her mind was a hamper full of anxiety—even more so than the rest of us—and she’d never been anywhere without her father, her husband, or a whole phalanx of sisters and female cousins. I was perceived as a flimsy chaperone. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
By Karen Lethlean Australia: November, 1975. Governor General Sir John Kerr was about to sack the Whitlam Labour Government.
My soldier duties weren’t all bad. A big anniversary was being organized. 9th September, 1975, a celebration of Australian signals corps formation some fifty years ago. The current serving Governor General, Sir John Kerr was scheduled to review a major parade. Through his presence, ceremonial statements were made about the Australian Army and in turn signals corps’ direct connections to British Royal family members. A navigable line through monarch appointed representatives in Australia. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Personal Essay: The Lost Languages and the International Mother Language Day by Mehreen Ahmed3/2/2022 By Mehreen Ahmed 21st February is the International Mother Language Day—exemplary, and the most celebrated day world-wide for language. However, even as we speak, we lose a language. Even as we celebrate we lose a language. Research shows, we lose a language around the world, nearly every fourteen days. This paradox deems it necessary to save this endangered resource from getting extinct—particularly, indigenous languages are more at risk.
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By Steve Slavin On the off chance that you’re not acquainted with this term, a red diaper baby is someone born to highly idealist parents who strongly advocated social and economic justice, and were highly committed political lefties.
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By Mehreen Ahmed On chilled grey dawn, I hear a call out. I get out of bed fumbling and reach for my shawl.
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By Émilie H-P I don’t even remember whose birthday it was. I had arrived at a new school the year before and it was still hard to make friends.
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