immediate family
Blood makes you related, loyalty makes you family.
The Banker's Daughter
My father bent down low and held two quarters out to me. He was looking stern in his perfectly pressed Brooks Brother’s suit. I rocked back and forth, heel to toe. “You will get one quarter a week,” Pop explained. “But only if you behave and do your chores as you’re told.” I nodded my head vigorously. “AND you will put half of your allowance into the bank every month.” Again, I nodded my head vigorously up and down. “Now then. Since this is the second week of the month you will be paid one quarter retroactively and the other is for this last week.” I didn’t know what retroactively meant. But if it meant I was getting an extra quarter, I was all for it.
By Cynthia Mudge5 years ago in Families
Kicking Rocks with Mom
Aside from the stuff I might have forgotten, I remember everything from kindergarten to second grade. Most of all, I remember the dread that’d last from Sunday afternoon to Monday morning; until I’d eventually forget the weekend happened. The 7am air of Monday school mornings made my organs tremble. It sounds dramatic, and it felt dramatic. I remember wondering how everyone was acting so normal. My wondering would fade along with the weekend, and before long it was Tuesday.
By Justin Murray5 years ago in Families
Stories for a Lifetime
Waves crash in a foreign sea as Sinbad the sailor tries to keep his ship from being swallowed up by the formidable kraken of the deep. Its tentacles thrash around the ship, breaking the masts and ripping the sails. Lightning splits the sky in the distance and rain comes pouring down. CRACK! Goes the thunder. Sinbad’s sailors are being tossed about the ship, some of them scooped up by the tentacles of the monster. Sinbad wields his sword and hacks away at the monsters tentacles. The Kraken’s head emerges from the sea and its beak gnashes at Sinbad and his sailors. “AHHH!” one sailor screams as he is gobbled up by the hulking beast.
By Amanda Fargo5 years ago in Families
Bedtime Stories
Vocal Bed Time Story Submission By James Alexander Palfi I was lucky that I have two amazing parents. My Dad used to read to my sister and us up to the age of 13. There were a few stories and most of them series that my dad told us. One of the beauties of storytelling is that some stories it is better to tell them out loud.
By James Palfi5 years ago in Families
Nancy and Me
When I was a kid I was afraid of the dark to the point that I would often end up sleeping on the floor of my parents room, or in the hallway where there was light from the bathroom. I had all sorts of little rituals that I used to try and calm down when I got scared at night. Sometimes I would arrange my stuffed animals in a ring around my bed, sometimes I made up a little song, and of course there was the time-honored tradition of making sure that all hands and feet were on the bed and under the covers because the monsters can only get you if your toes are exposed and dangling, of course.
By Carol Cowett5 years ago in Families
Chaos and Caramel
I have a small army of children. Seven, to be precise. Four years ago, I developed the sudden urge to return to education. Something my mother said to me many moons ago was suddenly replaying in my mind: Monkey see, monkey do. I wanted better for my kids than the life I’d made for myself. Don’t get me wrong, I love my children. I imagined, somewhat romantically, that we were a little like the Weasleys: eccentric, financially stretched, but loveable, and - perhaps more importantly - loving. We made do. Still, something nagged at me for long enough that I made the jump and returned to education. My life best resembles the checkout at the supermarket: rapid-fire administrations of food and clothing on a production line, and some days are better than others. Mostly, it’s the others. What I haven’t mentioned yet is that I applied to study for a full-time degree at university in spite of the fact that my seven Weasleys were themselves educated at home. By me.
By Ysiad Senyah5 years ago in Families
Mom is Forever
If my mother could somehow perform three miracles, the Catholic Church would have to immediately sanctify her as a saint. The strongest substance that this woman has imbibed into her body is caffeine and ibuprofen. She did get married and give birth at the young age of seventeen years old, but that was over 50 years ago, so that isn't a dealbreaker. She is almost in her 70's now and she is raising her two great granddaughters, ages 11 and 12. Her oldest son was murdered when he was 20 and his daughter had died suddenly at the age of 30. In between those two, she lost her husband/soulmate after 35 years of holy matrimony, her daughter in law and her oldest sister. She did get a divorce from her first husband before she married my dad, but if she never did that, I wouldn't be here to tell her story.
By James S. Carr5 years ago in Families
