The day my Dad and my new Mom came home from their honeymoon. I was sad. The babysitter had told my parents that I was sick. I am unsure if I really was sick. But I know that I felt sad. I was crying. My new Mom sat down next to me as Dad looked… Read more: June 1983

I know it was summer because my room was warm and I was wearing shorts. I know it was before my little brother was born because my room was what would become his room but it was still mine. I don’t believe this happened while my mom was pregnant with him, but I’m not sure… Read more: Summer 1983

My 4th birthday. One of my earliest memories. Dad took me to the Chuck E Cheese in Rockford, Illinois. “Just for a little while.” I remember his happy whistle in the foyer of the plaza. I twirled as the sound reverberated off of the brown 6 x 6 inch tile floor and the floor to… Read more: August 24, 1984

“Tsk”, her tongue clicked. “Why didn’t you sit nicely and smile, like the other children? You ruined the picture.” I recalled the nervous energy in the room that had resulted in my being extra wiggly and giggly that picture day. My teacher had told me to sit on my hands. That was hilarious! People don’t… Read more: September 1984

Though I knew better than to ever ask for money to actually buy anything, the school book fair was an exciting fantasy for me growing up. To this day, ‘new book’ smell triggers feelings of hope and optimism and excitement. Back in those days, the school book fair was equivalent to a blockbuster movie preview… Read more: May 1986 / May 2008

We were sitting at the dining room table in our family’s small ranch home in Loves Park, Illinois. I know it was summer time because I recall the slight damp stickiness on the dark walnut oval-shaped table, and the way my legs stuck to the camel-colored pleather upholstery covering “my” spin-style bucket chair, one of… Read more: Summer 1986

“That’s disgusting!”, Dad said, firmly, and in a lowered voice. Pizza Hut, c. 1986. I knew that meant this was something juicy. “WHAT’S DISGUSTING?”, I exclaimed, *loudly*, while simultaneously whipping my head around to scan the room and get a good gawk. “Shhhhhhhhh!”, both parents encouraged. “I can’t believe she’s doing that in public”, Mom… Read more: Summer 1986

He called a meeting at the church. My parents, his wife, their Bible study group, the pastor, the Children’s Church leaders. “Tina has been swearing and using the Lord’s name in vain”, his wife hissed. I was small, seven years old. Confused. I had sworn, but never in public, never where church members would ever… Read more: July 1987

“DAD!!! You left a DOLLAR on the table!”, I shouted, waving the dollar around, following him through the busy restaurant as he had made his way to the counter to pay for our meals. By the time he heard me, he had made his way all the way to the counter and was standing in… Read more: January 1988

My mom was a neat freak.  Or something.  Allow me to explain the “something”: if my room was not cleaned to her standards, she would blow through my room like the Tasmanian Devil, pulling things out of drawers, out of my closet, out from under my bed – anything that she believed was “out of… Read more: July 1988

We didn’t wear jeans because my mom believed it to be a sign of lower class and wanted to hide the fact that we were poor. But you don’t go around telling kids that. Especially not me as a kid. I would have announced to any room, “I don’t wear jeans because my parents want… Read more: September 1990

Bobby and I hatched a plan. 16 months apart in age, Dad frequently referred to us as “Bert and Ernie”. For one reason, we were pretty much attached at the hip. For another, we spent a fair amount of time hatching plans together. They were usually plans that resulted in Mom lamenting that we were… Read more: July 1991

About a year after my family moved from Loves Park, Illinois to Massillon, Ohio, a longtime friend of our family, Jackie Epperson, had moved to a trailer park in nearby Minerva, Ohio. When we lived in Illinois we’d spend just about every Sunday afternoon with her at her home. I have such fond memories of… Read more: July 1991 – August 1995

“These outfits just aren’t meant for your body!” the photographer fussed before taking the photo. “Do you ever feed her?” a family friend questioned at a picnic in the park. “You’re too skinny to be a cheerleader!” my mom noted when I mentioned an interest in trying out for the squad. “You’d look better with a little… Read more: September 1991

We were in 7th grade. I was 11 or 12. I got called down to the principal’s office. As I often do when met with sudden an unexpected authority, I felt my entire body tingle. What had I done wrong? I frantically searched my mind to replay my actions of recent weeks. I couldn’t think… Read more: 7th grade ~ 1992

Summer had just begun and I was hanging out in my bedroom, dinking around. Windows open, the breeze coming in often enough to cause the half-opened blinds to softly tap-tap-tap against the sill. Music from Rock 106.9 WRQK plays from the speakers of my purple boombox behind the pillows on my bed. A tune I… Read more: June 1993

I was fourteen, turning fifteen in August. I don’t know where Frank was, but the deal that summer was that I’d stay with his ex wife Kristie, babysitting my nephew Matthew for $20 a week and all the Basic cigarettes I could smoke, living in the projects in Canton, Ohio, so that she could work… Read more: July 1995

“She couldn’t have been that bad–right? You had three, actually four, children with her, if you count the other one. She couldn’t have been that bad?”, my voice giving way slightly as I spoke through the cordless phone handset. “What? Uhh. Hey, I’m, uh, I’m actually in the middle of something right now. Can we… Read more: September 1999

For years leading up to this day, I was on the lookout for her. I’d watch Unsolved Mysteries, then later Sally Jesse Raphael, Maury Povich, other miscellaneous talk shows for her. These were the days long before the internet, and I had convinced myself that I had a mother who loved me and missed me… Read more: Spring/Summer/Unknown 2000

once upon a timeand somewhere out thereis a little girl whose little headhangs low in deep despair she’d read somewhere in fairy talesthat one day he would comeand she’s clinging to the notion thathe’d bring her safely Home so she sits at a lovely tableshe waits with innocent eyeswith a beautiful smile and a happy… Read more: April 4, 2011

I must surrender my 19-year-loyalty to ghosts. My mom died the year I turned 19. Until now, I have compared/contrasted and otherwise leveraged the memories of my past–the good, the bad and the ugly–to form and make parenting decisions when raising my two kids. Anything I did not specifically recall in detail, I had written… Read more: May 20, 2022

I’m hit with a realization this last week that I’ve been pledging loyalty to ghosts in an extremely unhealthy way. Or maybe it feels that way to me today, now, as I write this because I know it. So it hovers over me like an interrogation lamp you see in the movies. At the time,… Read more: November 13, 2022

It is striking and heartbreaking and humbling to consider how little I ever considered my own existence. I didn’t consider that I should feel mad. I didn’t consider that I should feel happy. I didn’t consider that I should feel … anything. I didn’t consider that I should have needs. I didn’t consider that I… Read more: November 15, 2022

I just finished watching A Friend of the Family and immediately followed up with A Friend of the Family-True Evil, a miniseries and documentary based on real life events. I was thinking to myself – what were those parents thinking? How could they let their little girl go off with this full grown man like… Read more: November 26, 2022

I’ve been on this journey towards self awareness for about a year now. It’s not fun and it’s not easy; you have to face the things within you that make you tick, and oftentimes it’s not pleasant. So it’s a process. Though I have done some “inner child work” years ago, about a week ago… Read more: January 12, 2023

My therapist challenged me recently with the phrase, “it isn’t your job to figure out what’s going on with other people!” This hit me with a wide range of emotions, and had both the effect of feeling like being covered with a ton of bricks, while each one lifted from me simultaneously. How does such… Read more: It’s Not My Job To Figure Other People Out

I have to start this by saying I absolutely adored my dad. The man could do no wrong in my eyes and he held my heart in a superhero-like manner; faster than the speed of light, strength that could move mountains, part seas, energy that was undying and unrelentless and yet through all of his… Read more: Dad

The lasting Marc of physical violence. The only reason I didn’t title this entry this way is because it sounds like a schtick but it is no joke. And I needed to be able to clear the air about that at the same time as offering it. I wish so desperately to understand the source… Read more: Physical Violence

My perspective about Bobby shifted profoundly as I began to revisit our shared memories with a new lens—one not clouded by the survival instincts of my younger self. Writing this memoir forced me to pause and reflect on moments I had long buried or dismissed. In unpacking those memories, I began to see patterns, connections,… Read more: November 8, 2024