Write Around The Corner

What Is True

By Barbara Glass~  Here is a tree. It is straight and tall. It blooms in the spring and bears lovely gold leaves in the fall. It has a name. I enjoy its shade and its graceful sway when the wind blows. It’s real it’s solid — and it’s true. In this foggy time of COVID

Life Is a Series of Stages

By Barbara Glass~ As we reflect on certain periods of our lives, we tend to sort and label experiences. For example, “I thought that was an attractive hairstyle at age twelve!” Or, “I went through a Goth stage in high school when all I wore was black,” and, “during those years, everyone I knew smoked

Bygone Days of the TV Repairman

By Barbara Glass~ Before the era of internet streaming services, there lived the TV Repairman. He made house calls like the family doctor, armed with a valise full of tools to fix the television set. If ever he could not revive the “patient” in the home, there was always room for a broken TV in

Finding The Fun In Dysfunctional

By Barbara Glass~ Years ago, my youngest son returned home from school and announced, “Our family is dysfunctional!” I burst out laughing. At 12 years of age, Joe was discovering all kinds of new words and concepts at school. “I suppose we are dysfunctional,” I said. “But, Joe — all families are dysfunctional!” One way or

Like Clouds Passing Overhead —It’s All About Time

By Barbara Glass ~ Watching puffy white clouds float overhead on a lovely warm day makes one conscious of the here-to-there. The clouds pass lightly with the breeze, changing shape as they fly. Time is here and now, now and then, there and gone. Am I passing time or losing time? Am I in time,

Oh, To Be Vexed!

By Barbara Glass ~  My book group’s first selection of 2020 was Jane Austen’s “Persuasion”. Though I expected this book to be as boring as I had found Jane Austen to be in ninth grade, I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it. I was hooked after the fifth chapter and couldn’t put the

The Art of Starting Over

By Barbara Glass ~ When I think about “starting over,” I consider my Scotch-Irish ancestors who sailed to America and later migrated west, leaving family behind forever. They carried personal possessions with them — along with whatever they needed to survive, like a gun and an axe. There were few, if any, settlements where they

Sharing Time and Recalling Memories of Kay

By Barbara Glass~ The soft breeze of an early fall evening blew over us. Sunlight slowly faded over the distant tree line. About 25 hummingbirds hovered around a nearby sugar-water feeder. Eight of us — all women — sat there, watching the birds. We sipped wine as we listened to our host, Pam, tell us

On The Road Again

By Barbara Glass~ I was born into a family of drivers. My mother drove farm implements from the time she was 13 years old, and my father can’t remember a time when he wasn’t behind the wheel. Mom had a “lead foot”; Dad’s was lighter, but not by much. My childhood included road trips galore:

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