A Phony Kind of Healing

A Phony Kind of Healing

Week after week, the Dodgeville Chronicle published testimonials proclaiming cures of every imaginable illness. Hemorrhoids shrunk miraculously. Scabies dried up. Arthritis was relieved. Gallstones disappeared. And a lady who’d been going downhill with cancer, after...
Misunderstanding Pig Latin

Misunderstanding Pig Latin

When the troops returned home from the war in 1946, a new language flooded our valley. They called it Pig Latin. The older boys at Middlebury Country School learned it, and to my dismay, used it when we younger students were around. I was an eight-year-old...
I Swore Off Hunting Forever

I Swore Off Hunting Forever

I remember well a fateful day of pheasant hunting. Afterwards, I sheathed my Fulton double-barreled 20-gauge shotgun, and it hasn’t seen daylight for fifty-five years. I hunted a bit during high school—squirrels now and then, but mostly pheasants. Sometimes, I’d drive...