“Overheated” by John Jeremiah
I was seventeen in 1965. The “Sally Bumps” gang hung out at Vinny’s Bar. Their main racket was stealing copper from the telephone company . . .
I was seventeen in 1965. The “Sally Bumps” gang hung out at Vinny’s Bar. Their main racket was stealing copper from the telephone company . . .
7:30am, Okay; coffee, laundry, then walk . . .
JR was a precocious boy who loved to watch TV . . .
The kids and I dash across town to library story time . . .
I am a distinguished professor. I am a dignified person. I have a doctorate. I am important in academic circles . . .
Dear Son, Honestly, I should’ve started this campaign long ago, back when you were a fetus and your behavior was under control. Today the case is nearly hopeless . . .
We had recently moved and were delighted to find a babysitter across the street and a few doors down. Allison was about fourteen and lived with her dad, who had told us that his wife had recently passed away . . .
There was an odd quietness in the house, a stillness I could only describe as beautiful.