Category: Announcements

When I was a boy the school building my mother attended was closed down. It had been a one-room school. She went to the public auction. She and others wanted the bell in the small steeple on the roof. There was general disappointment when it was announced that the bell could not be sold because … Continue reading What Art? by Duane L. Herrmann

In my next life I’ll have curly red hair, will sing on-key and will be able to draw what I see. Once I did take the plunge and hennaed and permed my hair—but it just wasn’t “me” (at least not in this lifetime.) My high hopes for singing and drawing were squelched back in high … Continue reading In My Next Life by Anne Sterling-Alsina

I don't remember how old I was, maybe eight or nine, when my family drove from our home near Berryton, Kansas to Buffalo Creek, Colorado to bring my granma back home at the end of the summer. She had spent the summer working for a family friend who she had known since the friend was … Continue reading Colorado Trip by Duane L. Herrmann

I am a member of one those lucky extended families that shares a summer cottage in the Adirondacks where we make memories with cousins on neutral territory. No matter how often or how far away we moved over the decades, this spot on the map remained forever a home away from the home we lived … Continue reading There is No Place Like Home by Anne Sterling

    The mother decided she would give her children a treat that summer by taking them to a swimming pool in the city.  They had a pond, of course, actually several were scattered across the farm, but the one they thought of as “the pond,” was the one in the back yard, or nearly … Continue reading Swimming Treat by Duane L. Herrmann

When I heard your muffled cryabove the sound of rushing waterand looked up to see you thereclinging to that bridgeamidst a dragging currentkayak mostly submergedMy heart stoppedand my instinct startedall in an instantyet across an eternityNumbed toes sprintingas the cries continuedbending downto reach you in timeUnwilling to let gountil recognizing arms of safetypulling you outfrom … Continue reading The River Knows by Bobby Clark

I discovered my first black walnut tree as an eight-year-old, playing at the school playground with my friend on a weekend. We were swinging on the swings and chatting about something or another.  Bordering our school was a small area we referred to as "The woods", which were not actually woods at all, just small areas of trees left untouched when … Continue reading Black Walnut Tree by Christine Gillies

When I was a junior in high school something happened, over fifty years later, I still don't know what. What I do remember is that the walls of the halls at school began to weave in and out as I tried to walk them and finding the right classroom where I belonged was difficult. Getting … Continue reading Circle of Trees by Duane L. Herrmann

That darkness that clouds the mind, that numbness that renders activity pointless, that blackness that negates all joy, that grayness that makes movement difficult, that dullness that saps emotion, that emptiness that leads to a deep void, that bleakness that obliterates the future, that pain that takes away words. The earth has lost its balance, … Continue reading Grief is… by Duane L. Herrmann