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Memories of a Mobile Library
John Scalzi‘s homage to the libraries of his life prompted me to remember my first encounter with a library. Not a bricks and mortar library, the mobile library of my childhood was essentially a bus full of magic that visited a housing estate on Antrim’s Dublin Road every week. Although far from America, on this day that we celebrate the…
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dealing with deleting “cancer”
It is a confession of sorts. I do not want to write about being diagnosed with cancer, living with cancer, or expecting to die from cancer. In the beginning, cancer hung from every sentence, anchoring me down to an unfamiliar place, where one could easily get lost, were it not for the kindness of strangers. Like Rhonda, not a stranger…
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catching poetry’s life lines
My parents were raised in rural County Derry at a time and place that produced the “folk healer,” that individual uniquely gifted with “the cure” or “the charm” for whatever ailed them. Consulted only after it was determined that the medical doctor was flummoxed, the folk healer meted out charms in plasters and poultices, in potions that swirled in brown bottles. It was…
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HAWMC Day 3: communing with the dead
Day Three of my Health Activist Writers Monthly Challenge, and I’m thrilled to be taking part in it with my blogging buddies Marie Ennis O’Connor and Jan Hasak, two compelling writers who are truly inspired and inspiring in all they do. Day 3: If you had a superpower, what would it be and how would you use it? I remember the…
