Memoir
… Pain R. Wesley / Getty Images My father was never one to complain. On the morning of the day he died, an ulcer he’d suffered from for years, and left … In the same awful week, my father’s own mother also died, of old age. These two deaths hardly seemed to …
Memoir
… the baby, on the way to my office. I’d just described my upcoming spring schedule as my father drove us over the San … Phillis Wheatley married and bore three babies, two of whom died in infancy, her days as a poet of record were done. … during a trip into San Francisco. This was Tuesday, October 26, 2010. Callie was nearly five months old. Her whole body …
Memoir
… to look pretty. Some of those goals seem impossible, or incompatible, or prohibitively difficult; not worth what I … Most of my favorite music during the 1990s was called indie-pop, or “twee,” a mostly British genre derived from the … dress, because at this point in my life, and perhaps at all points, I’d be too distracted, and so would my students. I’d …
Memoir
… faith in the military that never again should American soldiers get bogged down in a land war in Asia. Nonetheless, … to the Military Assistance Advisory Group (MAAG) to 2646, and at tin-urging of Bundy and Rostow fired off a … of self-supporting rural hamlets, protected by strong points and local self-defense forces, which would deny the …
Memoir
… A Memoir of Gay Male Literature “Then what are you complaining about?” “About hypocrisy. About lies. … palpable, physical loneliness of sexual solitude, but they also greatly increased your intellectual and emotional … independently of classroom assignments and the usual boy’s diet of Rudyard Kipling, Jonathan Swift, Alexandre Dumas, …
Memoir
… their bedroom. I’m pulling Dad’s eyelids. I’m tapping Mom’s comforter-covered hips. The tree in the living room is real, … which Dorothy puts beside the porcelain original. She points, I sit. She says, “You come off that pot before you … burnt onto plates hanging on walls. A crystal dish with candies for seeing and not eating. “Why can’t we go in your …