CREEK ROAD GANG

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I thank God that I grew up in the days of little parental interference. We kids could enjoy the summertime and have a separate life from our parents. We could leave our homes in the morning only to return for meals and then leave again until the streetlights would come on at night. We would, of course, have to ask permission if we were going to leave our usual stomping grounds and tried to get the go-ahead while we were home for lunch or dinner. At least I tried to anyway.

Bedtime Stories
~Kate Lydon

“Tell us a story about when you were little!” Johnny and I begged.

Standing at the doorway to our bedroom, Daddy smiled, and we knew that meant yes.

“All right,” Daddy said. “Now, let’s see. One time, when I was just three or four years old, my mother needed to go to the store to get something for supper, so she called to my Dad to watch me while she was out, and she told me to be good.”

A Walk Down Memory Lane
~Dori Hoch

Now that our children, 34-year-old Matt and 26-year-old Katie, had long since left the nest, Christmas just wasn’t the same. Oh, Frank and I went about the customary decorating, but it was different when the kids would pester us to put up the tree.

A Christmas Eve to Remember
~ Patricia Zita Krisch

This Christmas Eve I was in our thirty-sixth floor, lakeside apartment in Hyde Park, Chicago, getting a head start on the next day’s feast. Early in our marriage we established the tradition of inviting for Christmas dinner friends who also were away from family--singles, empty nesters, people new in town. About four o’clock, as I was shelling chestnuts to braise, our buzzer rang from the lobby.

Poetry

Zea Ginsburg Piver: 3 Poems
     Buddhist Nun Blessing
     Ovens
     Lament

Janice Ewing: 2 Poems
     Disappointment
     Chemo

Joe Quinton: 3 Poems
     Tomatoes
     Life
     Enigma

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