A woman representing an Irish cultural organization told me yesterday that I have Irish eyes. I thanked her, because these are my mother's eyes, the clear blue, arrestingly wide eyes framed by tilted eyebrows suggesting sorrow even as the irises twinkle with laughter. It is the one visible trait I received from my mother. More... Continue Reading →
Dear Class of '86, There's a reunion coming up. I don't have any idea of how long it's been--if I'd learned any math, I might know--but I also just don't care enough to get out the slide rule. I bring it up because its approach has inspired some vigorous conversation, which has, in turn, caused... Continue Reading →
My forearms freckle on the underside in the summer, just the way my dad's did. I loved everything about my dad when I was a kid; his crazy speckled hazel eyes, his dark hair with the ring of baldness right at the top, the way he'd push his lower lip out when he was thinking,... Continue Reading →
Since my father died, I've been surprised at the freedom of thought and speech that I feel. We weren't in contact except for the occasional letter back and forth, but I was keenly aware of his presence in the distance, a governing force on my thoughts. Don't go there, the little internal voice would say,... Continue Reading →
Part of the joy of working at local community music and arts centers has been interacting with children. I'm only at these centers a couple of days a week, but they are, without question, the highlight of my week. I've become friends with a number of little ones; the pianist, the writer, the actor, the... Continue Reading →
Meg Currell 