The Coffee Can Letter: Why My Mother Lied About My Brother’s Death for Fifty Years
Mama always said my brother died as a baby. Winter of 1958, before I was old enough to...
Author: Jerry B. Case
How Eight Brown Paper Bags and a Ten-Year-Old Girl Exposed Oakridge Elementary and Saved My Life
The green metal shelving in my supply closet always smelled of lemon oil and dry mop heads, a...
Seat 3A Is Not For Sale: How My Board Seat Halted Flight 417
The smell of roasted chicory and stale terminal air always clung to the gate carpets at O’Hare long...
Mike Wants His Sweater Back and Other Lies My Husband Told While Using My Family Cabin
The morning coffee pot on my kitchen counter had finished its wet sputter about ten minutes before David...
Mike Wants His Sweater Back and Other Lies My Husband Told While Using My Family Cabin
The morning coffee pot on my kitchen counter had finished its wet sputter about ten minutes before Vance...
How My Husband Named His Secret Contact Mike and Met My Father’s Iron Trust
The coffee in my ceramic mug had gone lukewarm about ten minutes before the phone on the quartz...
How My Wife Tried to Sell My Inherited Plaza While I Was in a Coma and Met My Family Trust
The last normal thing Gordon said to me that Tuesday morning was that he needed the blue ceramic...
Mike Wants His Sweater Back and Other Lies My Husband Told While Using My Family Cabin
The morning sun always hit the kitchen counter at exactly 6:42, right across the blue ceramic butter dish...
How My Daughter Charged Me Four Hundred Dollars a Month to Watch My Grandson and Met My Attorney
The crisp white business envelope sat on my formica counter right next to my morning coffee mug, looking...
How My Husband Slapped Me Over Spilled Soup and Met His Mother’s Smart Hub
The smell of cold lemon water and old linen was still on my hands when I walked into...