“Who, If I Cried Out, Would Hear Me?” On Twitter, Tales And Tragedy

December 21, 2009

Not all of Twitter’s stories are saving stories, sure. Some of Twitter’s stories are banal. Most of those stories, maybe, are banal. But, too, some are great and some are beautiful and some are terrible and the great stories and the beautiful stories and the terrible stories – all the saving stories – live alongside the banal stories and all of them, all of them draw us ’round the fire to hear and to share and – sometimes – to survive.

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Jesus Rode A Motorcycle, And He Liked It

November 10, 2009

I had my computer open last night, and Emilia saw the picture that I posted yesterday. “That’s the picture that I drew for Grandpa!” “I know, sweetie. I put it on my computer so that I could show it to other people. Is that okay?’ “Yeah. Do they know that I drew it?” “Yeah.” “Do [...]

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Jesus In The Sky With Dinosaurs

November 9, 2009

When my father died a few months ago, my daughter drew this picture: ‘This,’ she announced as we huddled over it together at my mother’s kitchen table, filling in the details, “is Grandpa’s Death House. It’s where he lives now.” “I’m sure that he’s so happy that you made him such a wonderful Death House, [...]

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If Death Were Good

October 14, 2009

According to my father’s death certificate, the cause of his death is unknown. The autopsy that was performed when (oh, god, to write such words and remain detached is beyond my ability) his body was recovered was inconclusive. More tests were needed. We would have to wait – weeks, probably, the coroner told me – [...]

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So Long, And Thanks For All The Bacon

October 9, 2009

I’m not sure, exactly, what we’re celebrating with Canadian Thanksgiving – other than, as the Act of Parliament decreed in 1957, “General Thanksgiving to Almighty God for the bountiful harvest with which Canada has been blessed,” which could mean anything, really. Hey God, thanks for all that maple syrup! And bacon! And stuff! – but [...]

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August 20, 2009

Here’s the thing: there’s a smudge. There’s a smudge on the floor where my father died. The smudge is him, or what’s left of him. What was left of him, after the coroner took his remains away. The circumstances of his death – or rather, the circumstances of the recovery of his body – were [...]

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Miles To Go

August 9, 2009

Yesterday, we drove – my mother, my sister and I – through the hot, dusty valley toward my father’s home, and we fought. A wrong word here, a raised eyebrow there, a tinder box of raw, snapping nerves and the flicker of a hint of a suggestion of an accusation, a tiny lick of angry [...]

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Into The Dark

August 7, 2009

My dad died. My dad died, and I can’t even say, he died yesterday, or he died on Wednesday, because I don’t know, I don’t know, nobody knows, I only know that I have to fly home, now, right now, and talk to police – police – about when and where and how they found [...]

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