“The list has come,” my mother announced, waving two pieces of paper at me from the desk under her bedroom window. I was lying on the floor watching dust motes dance in a shaft of sunlight, an activity that fascinated me as long as I could remember. It was not considered a useful endeavor by… Continue Reading
Author Archives: Sidney Stark
The Christmas Present
“Don’t say I never did anything for you,” my father announced, knocking his snow boots together at the heels like a Nazi on parade. It was the best way to get the frozen buildup off without shaking the questionable structure of our little wooden porch. Our cabin in the Canadian Laurentians was as simple thirty… Continue Reading
Balance of Power: Dynamism Denied
Born in New York City, balanced uncomfortably on the cusp between the end of WWII and the post-war economic boom, I nonetheless had a unique vantage point to observe the developing international Cold War. It began almost immediately following World War II and lasted through most of the 20th century, basically all of my life.… Continue Reading
The Hair of the Dog
“What’s that?” I eyed the poisonous potion my father was holding onto with trepidation. He sat on the weedy fieldstone terrace with a drink of something orange in front of him. The old wrought iron table wobbled, accentuating his unsteady hand every time he picked the glass up. His tall drink tipped precariously when he set… Continue Reading
Love Affair with ‘S’~ a personal essay
Sitting at my desk in Vermont very early one recent morning, I found myself staring at the mountain instead of the email I was supposed to be writing. Shadowy morning light reflected on ‘Hayride’– the broad, satiny white-ribbon trail most prominently centered on the view from my window. Suddenly, I saw four black specs, easily… Continue Reading
Who Are You Talking To?
My sister had a nerve-wracking habit of appearing in my room uninvited. The fact that I would have been drawn and quartered, probably literally, if I’d dared to consider the privacy of her room assailable had no bearing on the sanctity of my space. She was privileged; I was pathetic–from her point of view, anyway.… Continue Reading