Skylark in Tawny Mist BY Julie Ann Wenglinski
Before surgery, a rabbity young man in a white jacket hurried by and put his hand down the front of my dress, then bustled away. On my gurney to the OR, a chatt...
Before surgery, a rabbity young man in a white jacket hurried by and put his hand down the front of my dress, then bustled away. On my gurney to the OR, a chatt...
Many years later, when Grandpa followed her into the abyss, I'm convinced that he whistled for her and she reached out to him.
My room was the base of operations for Dad’s drug dealing enterprise, a career he must have selected—I imagine in hindsight—to sustain his life as a musician
At 6, I suddenly knew I was adopted by the telling of a fairy tale. Not only did I belong to my parents, but also someone else! The myth of the adoption agenc...
Watch and listen as Storyteller Sandy Schuman takes you on a delightful audiovisual journey to his father's 1936 Manhattan, where unions are formed, while men's...
What I care about are the relationships and activities that feed my resilience, stretch my gratitude and help me love harder in the time I have left. I feel mys...
We are fortunate, I keep telling myself. Dennis has chronic leukemia, a rare type called LGL. I barely remember the initial shock the first time the oncologist ...
I sit out in the chill wet evening, all the roses are dead on the bushes, waiting and hoping and knowing, here we are at last and so soon.
As part of our ongoing commitment to nurturing the voices of marginalized groups and writers of color, Memoir Magazine is sponsoring a free online memoir class ...
At the hospital I met a young woman who’d smashed a light bulb, poured the glass into her afternoon Diet Coke, and drank it. Then she called her husband to tell...
My mother took the greatest care of her porcelain Virgin Mary. She was two feet tall, dressed in white from head to toe, and as my mother claimed, cried when no...
Had I not helped to rob Esau, he would be approaching his forty-sixth year on earth now, and who knows what he would have been, what he would have accomplished,...
Represented as a heartbeat of highs and lows, “The Story of Me” is a memoir of the artist’s life from birth through middle-age (pen and ink on 18”x24”drawing pa...
Lies don’t shine, no matter how hard one scrubs.
The first time I took a Vicodin, I didn’t nod out; quite the contrary, I was imbued with positive energy and became quite industrious and efficient. All my rese...
There has to be some Darwinesque reasoning behind this. Other than you are fucked and you know you are fucked and the universe conspires to fuck you.
The house had other guests too. They were invisible in daylight...
“To look at what it means to exist and be human—and who we are as species—we must look at history.” –Tell it Slant, Brenda Miller and Suzanne Paola Memoir...