Growing up as an only child on a remote Tennessee cattle farm, my summers were spent largely within the confines of my own mind. I roamed green pastures until the humidity – or the threat of copperheads – drove me inside. I watched hours of “Leave it to Beaver,” followed by “The Brady Bunch.” Sometimes my mother drove me to the library or, if I was lucky, the pool. With the exception of a few Girl Scout camps, my summers were as boring and unstructured as those of my storybook heroes: Anne of Green Gables, Mary Lennox in “The Secret Garden” or, my favorite, the siblings in Edward Eager’s “Half Magic,” who discover a magical coin that grants their wishes, but only by half (was there ever a better metaphor for childhood?). To make up for my own lack of siblings, I conjured fairies, elves and leprechauns, giving them the most exotic names I knew: Ambrose, Demeter, Vodka. I cleared out drawers to house them: in the china cabinet, the guest bedroom dresser, my mother’s antique hutch. … [Read more...]

A couple of summers ago, during what seemed to be an endless summer (joke was on me it seemed; 2020 was just around the corner), I dragged my kids and own parched self to hang with the animals at the local pet shop for some much-needed relief during a long summer day. While the children ran off to the fish, I spied a large blue bird in a glass enclosure. Curious, I walked closer. A beautiful blue hyacinth macaw sat alone, not a single feathered friend in sight. Looking at the bird, I thought about how lonely that must be, and me being the parent I somehow always am now, I started to get concerned about this bird’s mental state and emotional outlook. You read that correctly, I was concerned about a bird’s emotional health. Moving on, having nothing but time and slight boredom on my hands, I started walking around the cage, seeing if I could get this bird to engage with me. A peek around a corner garnered a semi-interested glare back from the bird. Perhaps, also semi-strange looks from … [Read more...]