Melt the Fuckers Down


Thirty four mass shooting incidents since January 1 of this year.

For fucks sake, there’ve only been 53 days in the year so far.

And 34 of those days, there’s been a shooting that’s killed or injured 4 or more people.



FUCK. Continue reading “Melt the Fuckers Down”


With a Capital T

When I was a kid, I used to walk a mile each way to the elementary school I attended. I’d walk down Hasler Lane to Spruce St, turn right, go down Spruce, turn left onto Elmwood Ave, walk all the way down Elmwood Ave to Maple Street, where I’d turn right and go three more blocks to the school on the corner of Maple and Vine. It was how my mother taught me to get there when I was in Kindergarten, and it’s how I walked every day until one day in third grade, when my friend Amanda, who lived on the other end of my street, asked me to walk to school with her. Continue reading “With a Capital T”

Losing Christmas, Finding Peace

What happens when you realize that Christmas just might not be “your” holiday anymore?

This question has been tumbling around in my head since mid-November, and I’ve begun to write about it half a dozen times, only to delete everything and close the computer in frustration.

It isn’t often that I find myself unable to put my thoughts into words, but this is one of those times. Have you ever had thoughts take root so deeply inside the recesses of your own mind that you can’t quite tell if they’re thoughts, or if they’re emotions…..or perhaps some amalgam of the two? Continue reading “Losing Christmas, Finding Peace”

Almost Like Praying



How do you pray for someone if you don’t really believe in God?

How do you pray at all?

I’ve been asking myself this question over and over this week.

I used to pray, with fervor.

I prayed, even though, somewhere in the deepest corners of my heart, I wasn’t sure that God was real or if s/he heard or cared. I prayed because it was what I was taught to do, because it was expected, because I wanted so hard to believe that it made a difference.

I prayed because I wanted to believe that it made a difference.

Now, though, as I work through what my honest beliefs really are, apart from what I was taught, apart from religious dogma, I often wonder where prayer fits in, or if it does at all. Continue reading “Almost Like Praying”


Me too.

Age 11 in the Cincinnati Downtown Public Library. I was too scared to tell anyone because I was 11, and I believed that I’d done something wrong and dirty.

Age 26 by a superior officer, at a work conference in Colorado.   I was too scared to tell anyone because I was afraid to lose my job, my rank, and my reputation.

Age 35 behind the bar at a gallery opening in the art studio where I still do pottery. This time, it was witnessed, and even though those who witnessed it kept him away from me for the rest of the night, he wasn’t asked to leave, and I still see him around town all the time. Continue reading “#MeToo”