A story I wrote about my dad is published in Chicken Soup for the Soul: Thanks Dad. It hits bookstores today.
The lawnmower man and I are on page 97.
Posts under ‘Ties that bind...and gag’
Still a believer
Tonight my dad bailed me out of a problem that was my own fault.
Neither of us had planned on it, but this is one of the ways he says, “I love you,” and one of the ways I say, “I need you to.”
This poem is called “Lies I’ve Told My 3 Year Old Recently”:
A wack mole (not to be confused with Whac-A-Mole)
One of my new year’s resolutions was to attend a free skin cancer screening. There are a few reasons this was important to me. For starters, my dad has skin cancer. As long as I can recall, he’s had biopsies and even skin grafting done as part of his treatment.
Lemme be more graphic: My dad has had to get cancerous chunks of skin cut off his arms and nose. It’s painful and expensive and I’m sure he prefers to keep his body parts where they normally go. Most of us do.
Then a few years ago, my dad underwent chemotherapy. He was weak and nauseous throughout. It’s really hard to see what’s supposed to be a treatment make someone you love even more ill.
Skin cancer is more common in people with light-colored eyes and fair skin. I have blue eyes and very fair skin with pink undertones.
Russian people at Brighton Beach have actually shielded their eyes when I took off my wrap and revealed two black strips of bikini and a whole lot more of “Goddamn, she’s a ghost.”
A big week for Annie
Saturday was Annie’s first birthday. My mom served her a ribeye steak to celebrate.
Braced for the barrage of chain emails
I see this ad every time I log in to my Yahoo! email account.
I know the face that boy’s making.
How to make (but not necessarily keep) New Year’s resolutions
As far back as I can remember, my mom’s eyes have drooped long before the ball dropped in Times Square. Forget live music or noisemakers. She ushers in the new year by pulling out a fresh 3×5 index card and recording 10 resolutions.
“Some should be things you know you can definitely cross out,” she advised me at my initiation. “You probably won’t get to all of them.”
In high school then, I might have sarcastically asked, “Can I put breathing? How about buying a new shirt?”
My Very Own Special Christmas
A few months ago, I realized that I wanted to do something I hadn’t done before, something that sounded so pleasurable it made me feel bad.
I didn’t want to go home for Christmas.
The bad gift that keeps on giving
If it truly is the thought that counts, then I guess some people who have given me gifts over the past 26 years were cognitively challenged.
‘Tis time for my third video post wherein I discuss bad presents past.
Warning: May involve something related to puberty.
Her bark is worse than her bullet
I got my paws on more pictures of Annie in her Halloween costume.
Save your hide
Some of our worst problems sneak up on us. They’re freaky little failings no one anticipates. Tiny developments we miss a million times.
My first appointment of 2010 - and the first New Year’s resolution I’ll complete - is a skin cancer screening. I’ll be dressed in a robe and checked from scalp to sole for any suspicious spots.
I’ve needed to do this for awhile. I’m blue-eyed, fair-skinned, and have a family history of skin cancer. I grew up in Texas.
In the last few years, I’ve watched my dad undergo biopsies and chemotherapy to treat his skin cancer. He’s had chunks of his face removed. Pieces of his arms, his nose, his neck.
