Category: Imperfect Perfection

Today is Dia de los Muertos or Day of the Dead in Latin cultures. One of the cooler things about being an American is, as the mongrel product of our Melting Pot society and its blending of cultures from all across the globe, we can re-create ourselves however we see fit, and there is no shortage of influence to draw from. In Birmingham there has erupted a grassroots celebration of Dia de los Muertos that has become one of the cultural highlights of our fair city. Begun by the decidedly Anglo Tracy Martin as effort to both remember and celebrate… Read More »

So, my mother took my grandmother’s horrible advice and stayed married to my father for eleven years. During that time she put her own life on hold, pretending the entire time to be someone else. She consoled herself that she would leave one day, but she was waiting until I was older, thinking the divorce would not be so traumatic. Then, along came my brother and so she waited for him… Truth be told, she was never happy as a housewife and a mother. These roles chafed and confined her. She constantly sought other avenues of expression. Looking back, I… Read More »

Sometime in the spring of 1972 my mother sat on the back porch of her suburban home. She sat with her own mother, miserable and bereft at the state of her life. She had a one year old baby, she was married, and she had a nice house. For 1972 she had everything she was supposed to want – but it wasn’t enough. She married my father because she’d gotten pregnant and the the appellations “single mother” and “baby daddy” didn’t exist yet. As she cried, beseeching her mother for advice that would soothe her misery and make her life… Read More »