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Refugees in a Banana Republic
Literary

Refugees in a Banana Republic

Early dawn, when fog hung…

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A Day with Breanne Mc Ivor
Interview

A Day with Breanne Mc Ivor

Meet Breanne Mc Ivor. She…

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Nocturnal Conductions
Humor

Nocturnal Conductions

The first time it happened,…

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The Lady of the Water
Fiction

The Lady of the Water

I’d thought Central America would…

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Never Will I Leave Home
Literary

Never Will I Leave Home

You have not seen our…

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Two Blind Men
Flash Fiction

Two Blind Men

They knew well I was…

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An Interview with Ernest Brawley
Interview

An Interview with Ernest Brawley

Ernest Brawley, a native Californian,…

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When I was very young, I called her Big Momma.  She wasn’t really big.   I was really small. Later, my cousins and I called her Mamaw.  Her name was Blanche.  Her nickname was Pigie.  I asked more than once how she got that nickname but never got a clear answer. She was a scion of one of the oldest families in northwest Louisiana’s Sabine Parish.  She was the strongest personality I have ever encountered.  Finding herself alone to raise two young sons just as the Great Depression crippled America, she had to be strong to survive. She was my grandmother and she had a profound influence on me. She worked hard every day of her life and saved her money.  There was little luxury in her life.  Even when something nice came her way, it would more likely be put away for later than used right away.  Like the window…