Children feel both overawed and utterly repulsed by their parents. We are children, going from literal to hidden to metaphorical to crisis childhood, careening from pillar to post across the jukebox townships that are our lives. All of us, all, spin out skeins of push and pull, memory and revision, a miserable, familiar, exquisite chrysalis of family that promises a moth that cannot emerge…
April Showers bring…Good God! Run to the cellar!
by Terry Hargrove In 1990, I was a language arts teacher at Whitthorne Middle School in Columbia, Tennessee. One fine April morning, I strolled into the office and found our principal heavily […]