My son and daughter are first-generation Asian American. Their father, my ex-husband, was a Fulbright scholar from the Philippines. My son inherited from his father his dark eyes, darker-hued skin, and the broad Pinoy nose. My daughter got her father's eyes, the shape of the face, and the same kind of nose. ... Continue Reading →
She answered the door with a skeptical look, shushing the dog. I was sure I'd annoyed her, sure I'd picked the wrong day to approach a reclusive stranger. When I told her her farm's website had indicated that Fridays were the best days to drop by, she dropped her guard a little. I said I'd... Continue Reading →
As of Friday, May 30, our oldest offspring has come out to Portland to live. For the time being (emphasis his), he will be staying with us until he gets his feet on the ground. He comes our way after living on his own for six years in Lansing, Michigan, where he attended Michigan State... Continue Reading →
I got a new driver's license for driving in my new state. It has my new, much shorter license number, obviously a new picture, and a completely new name. My previous one reflected my hyphenated name, Vicencio-Currell, which I carried to maintain official connection with my children through high school. It was silly, really, because... Continue Reading →
Thank you to my mother, who taught me a love of bacon and butter, who gave me her blue eyes and singing voice; nursed me through such multiple childhood illnesses I might have been Frederic Chopin; from whom I got my compulsive love of reading; who told me to never EVER alter my vocabulary for... Continue Reading →
Meg Currell 