by Jeffrey Howard
The jokes I remember, I cannot deliver well, unlike my sons who prefer the knock-knock variety (“Boo who? Why are you crying, stinky man?”), or my brother-in-law, a learned astronomer, who has dead-panned to me not once but twice: “I thought I was going to be the poorest one in the family, then I heard my sister was marrying an English major.” Continue reading
Filed under Nonfiction
by Keira Deer
I do not confide in my father and mother. They would not understand. How could they? He is English, she is Chinese. I am different to both of them– a stranger, tho their own child. “What are we?” I ask my brother. “It doesn’t matter, sissy,” he responds. But it does.
-From Sui Sin Far’s “Leaves from the Mental Portfolio of an Eurasian”
My Yeye’s name was John Deer, though it was not his first. He was my father’s father. Pulled from the mothballed corners of bedroom closets and dresser drawers, he wore slacks and a white tank top every day I knew him, staking a cane alongside him when he shuffled quietly, room to room. In his high cheekbones and thin face, I could see my father’s, and I could see mine.
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Filed under Nonfiction, Young Writers Edition
by Shayna Cristy-Mendez
My body feels it before my brain can ever make sense of it; words always fail in their attempt to capture the sense of abandonment that comes with losing a parent to drug addiction. That particular sense of abandonment also tends to be exaggerated when their death falls on your birthday. As it happens, death has a habit of being a real foot to the groin of celebration. Continue reading
Filed under Nonfiction, Young Writers Edition
by Paul Grussendorf
On June 4, 1980, in a remote region of Lower Saxony, West Germany thirty-five hundred riot police forcibly cleared a population of one thousand anti-nuclear protestors out of a make-shift village which the activists had established on top of a nuclear bore site. The overwhelming police response to peaceful protestors was oddly similar to the recent eviction of a group of environmental protestors from a village sitting on top of a coal mine in Lutzerath, Germany on January 11, 2023. In 1980, I was there in the middle of the action with my camera crew. Continue reading
Filed under Nonfiction
by Kelsey Coletta
The music is drowning out our words and I want to scream louder. He’s seething, demanding to know why I left his side. I roll my eyes, sip my drink, bite my tongue and swallow the ache. Continue reading
Filed under Nonfiction
Hawaii Pacific Review 