In the Spring 2019 Issue of Birdland Journal, with the theme "A Matter of Character," pieces published include my creative nonfiction work "Forest Avenue," as well as wonderful stories by my good friends and long-time writing colleagues Rick Trushel ("Electric Twilight") and Jeanne Althouse ("Fallen Star").
Here's a brief taste of the madeleine that sends me back to that delightfully eccentric place I lived once, once upon a time:
Every year again, on Easter Sunday, the neighborhood children came in their new finery, flowered cotton dresses, ankle socks, and patent leather shoes, or little navy shorts and clean buttoned shirts, to hunt for Easter eggs in the huge, rambling yard across the street (Forest Avenue, broad as a boulevard), next door to the private nursing home where every morning the old man would come out bundled up and stand at the curb and holler at the street for maybe ten minutes, holler and holler, then go inside again. One by one, holding parents by one hand and little painted buckets or baskets by the other, they would come and lift the latch of the waist-high gate, vanish into the yard that was like an English cottage garden.
image: Sylvan Beach House
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