Category Archives: Nonfiction

The Ida Poplowski Chronicles

by Maddie Woda

My father says his fifth grade teacher was Guy Fieri’s grandmother. She had red hair and freckles, according to my father, and taught social studies in the trailer duct taped to the actual elementary school. He, my father, and apparently she, Guy Fieri’s grandmother, are both from Powhatan Point, Ohio, a crusty junction of Ohio and West Virginia in the Ohio River Valley. Food is love in Powhatan Point, just like food is love in most places, and my grandmother (not Guy Fieri’s) owned two restaurants while my father was growing up. One was called the Wigwam (I do not debate the politics of this moniker with my father. What’s done is done). The other was called Dorelli’s, manned by Doris and Ellie, my grandmother and great-aunt respectively, before they were my grandmother and great-aunt. Continue reading

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The First Brassiere

by Penny Jackson

The reason why my mother had to buy me a bra was because of a letter from our school’s headmaster to the parents of the 7th grade girls. It was noted that many girls who were “maturing” were not wearing the proper undergarments. Teachers would now routinely check each girl who came to the school by tracing a finger down their backs. If the necessary “item” was not worn, the girl could be sent home. Continue reading

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Riding Horses

by Virginia Watts

You are either born afraid of horses or you aren’t. I tried to pretend I wasn’t afraid of them the summer I was fourteen. Blame the recent television coverage of the equestrian events on the Olympic games in living color. Female riders like string beans. Absolutely no hips. Just slinky. Gorgeous, oiled leather boots molded to their calves. How did they get those boots on and off? Continue reading

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Two of Us

by John Haymaker

At thirteen I fixated on playing piano like John, Paul, and Elton — the new kid in 1970. But not until I graduated college would a prostitute unlock the secrets of rock music for me — techniques I might have learned from my first piano teacher, Raleigh, a sightless British gentleman. Continue reading

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Forgotten

by Fabrizia Faustinella

The house across the street from ours had been abandoned for many years and was now falling apart. The roof was collapsing, the front door hardly standing, the back door was jammed, and many windows were shuttered. The vegetation grew wild and unchecked; the vines took hold of the house like tentacles of a giant octopus. Continue reading

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