Out of this World

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By my eighteenth year I had never seen a televised funeral, much less for a president. From my elevated perch at the client’s living room I watched my dad, pipe-wrench in hand, navigating space beneath the house. Stooped beyond an open place in the hardwood flooring, he called up occasionally, assigning me a task common to plumber wannabes. Stepping carefully…

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Unlikely Union

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Southern culture calls for informal titles, the common church-goer each assigned their own. Brother and Sister. The titles carry in themselves a gentle ring of piety. “Hi, Brother Jerry! Say, I’ve been wanting to talk with you, got a minute?” David Worthy Mulford flashed his broad, tilted smile – the left side of his mouth elevated slightly above the other….

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Next stop. San Antonio

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I nudged the clinic door. It opened and I inched toward a desk behind which sat a dark-haired middle-aged lady. The receptionist. A pain shot through my back at the waist line. My knees buckled but I caught myself, barely dodging a crash to the hardwood floor. “Óh, sir!” Her concern was genuine. She indicated a chair. “Here. Right here.”…

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We’re BACK. Jerry’s ‘Second-book’ narratives

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Hi Reader-friends, After the release and enthusiastic reception of Living With A Limp, I’ve plunged into the next chapter (pardon the pun) of my memoir narratives. Enter the journey with me. Read week-by-week posts which I’ll include in the coming book. Simply follow this website blog. Also, it’s easy to catch the unfolding episodes by a simple mouse click. ….

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Spice

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Chutzpah. “ho͝otspə” The Yiddish word even sounds brash. It’s meaning – supreme self-confidence, nerve, gall, audacity, boldness. While chutzpah doesn’t fully define Claire, some days it seems close. Her fabulous mother – my daughter-in-law who may carry her own chutzpah gene – recounts. . .      On our way home today in terrible traffic, I was driving like a boss…

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Evidence of a Resurrected Carpenter

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There in the Africa savannah where flat-topped acacia trees dot the landscape, a young cattle-tender was seized by thieving attackers. He tried to seek refuge among his father’s herd, the bounty his assailants were after. The horrifying moments raced like short distance sprinters toward the finish tape until the boy was seized and beaten to death by these neighboring tribal…

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Pecan

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How do you say it again, Jerry? This word? I understood the reason prompting it but fielding such a question on my home town’s Main Street felt strange. With a smile their way I began. We spell it P-E-C-A-N. Pronouncing it once, then a second time, I continued. Notice the two syllables. We stress the last one – in this…

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Nearness

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Really honey, no pain meds? First Aid didn’t send you home with some? Well, I winced, it didn’t hurt that much after they worked on me so I told them I wouldn’t need any pills. That the anesthetic might wear off hadn’t occurred to me. Pain – like life – isn’t meant to be handled alone. Just Ann’s presence that…

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Train

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Warm the bench.  The high, red-brick gymnasium overshadowed our school’s single-story classrooms. Parked on the cold bench with fellow player-wannabees, my gaze dropped to the tennis-shoed polio foot at the end of my left leg. My rear end’s the best thing this bench ever saw come its way. I’ll keep this wood plank warm all season. I looked up to the scrimmage…

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Race to Space

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My index finger entered the circular hole of the rotary disc. I dialed the figures scrawled on the paper before me. A job lead, maybe? The seconds taking me to dial had me reflecting. Boy oh boy, just yesterday it seems. I was five-years-old – shedding the leg brace. Then nine – hospitalized by the second polio bout. My thoughts…

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