My grandfather took me fishing  only a couple of times I did not like the taste of fish  but enjoyed the feel of the reel the q...

I used to wish my father would die now I realize that living is punishment enough -- April PAD - Poetic Asides Day 8: family

The last time I looked in the mirror I saw my father's face the double chin the puffy cheeks the bloated discontent But the eyes a...

The smell of burning leaves outside couldn't overpower the smell of burning croissants wafting from the downstairs kitchen, the cha...

Mom never thought the house was clean enough. Because it wasn't. Dad collected newspapers and paper scraps he might need some day....

You say you don't know who your family is that you were given away or taken by those afraid your mother was unfit to love you li...

My dad drank too much. He shot bourbon at bars and barbed insults at home. The anger brewed inside him, a biting mash of memories agin...

Back to Jack The way my father tells it, Great-Grandpa Jack was a lawyer in L.A. back in the days when the city...

We heard the jiggle of his keys at the front door on the days he got off work early. "Just wanted to spend some quality time with ...

The faded photo in Mother's hallway reminds me of you. Our bellies are full and our cheeks are round (we were unembarassed by this...

Papa clocked out at 6 p.m. His inky fingerprints were all he left behind. He walked in at 6:14. His meaty, grease- stained fingers str...