The Rock That Swallows Mothers

The Rock That Swallows Mothers

Mahani Zubedy

(Illustration courtesy of esplanade.com) When I was a kid, my mother often resorted to emotional blackmail. She had a stockpile; her all-time favorite was the story, The Rock That Swallows Mothers. Once there was a huge rock on the side of a mountain in the middle of...
Constantly by Cliff Richard or How I Learned English

Constantly by Cliff Richard or How I Learned English

Mahani Zubedy

​ Constantly by Cliff Richard or How I Learned English or Why I Love My Aunt and Auntie Annie or The Day My Dad Came Through for Me I grew up in Malaysia and spoke Malay, an island language related to Hawaiian. Malaysia was a British colony and became independent in...
Bucktooth

Bucktooth

Mahani Zubedy

(image courtesy of Vintage Everyday) When my mother discovered my father had another woman, her world ended and she howled and cried. A shaman was called. The shaman burned frankincense and bitter-sweet acrid smoke filled the house. She sprinkled rose petals and...
Chapter 4. Challenges and Celebrations

Chapter 4. Challenges and Celebrations

Dagmar Grieder

Those times were BP, Before Penicillin, and there were a number of serious childhood illnesses, which were expected for most children, like rites of passage. I only know from being told that my first severe illness, which had to have included some pain, was a kidney infection when I was just a baby. I don’t know how this was treated, but the after-effects would follow me into my teens due to my mother’s lifelong concern for my plumbing

Chapter 3. Coping With Change

Chapter 3. Coping With Change

Dagmar Grieder

1943 – The shelves in German stores may have been bare, and everything was on ration cards anyway, but an under-the-counter market existed for those who could afford it. My father was genuinely interested in keeping his business connections well-polished, and he...
To Dye or Not to Dye

To Dye or Not to Dye

Peggy Kelsey

That is my question. Tired of the fuss and muss and mess Of colored hair And seeing the silvery sensuous shimmering tresses of friends As they display the snowy icon of their status as elders. It makes me wonder… What splendid glory hides under my boxed color? What...