This post is in response to a writing prompt from the LGBTQ Narratives Activist-Writers group. The prompt: When did we first become aware of our own race?
Some background: My story takes place in 1955 in Racine, an industrial community in Southeastern Wisconsin. Continue reading
First, I must confess that I’m a lapsed Catholic, or more precisely, a recovering Catholic. The recent selection of the new Pope, the 266th pontiff of the Roman Catholic Church, Francis, Jorge Mario Bergoglio, has stirred up memories of childhood and my first conscious religious experience and hallucination. Continue reading
Growing up in the 1950s, I was a member of the first wave of baby boomers, an elementary school child whose young family moved to the suburbs and learned to thrive in the emerging cold-war culture. My parents purchased their first home in a new Federal Housing Authority neighborhood of starter homes for returning veterans and their young families. I was the eldest child, six-years-old in 1956 in Racine, Wisconsin, the Belle City, home of Case tractors and Johnson Wax. Continue reading