Each of us can surely remember the
many “Firsts” in our lives: First
day in school, first invitation to a
birthday party, first job, first date, first
baby ...etc. The most important “first”
in my earlier years was the entry into
the hallowed walls of our small town
opera house. I was eleven years old
and the opera was “Carmen”
(wouldn’t you know!). My mother,
careful not to corrupt my tender,
young mind, thought that it was a safe
enough opera to start with. She didn’t
consider that I could adopt some of
Carmen’s coquettery. Read
More
The thin slip of red mercury barely
rose above its bulbous pool at the
bottom of the thermometer. The
Yukon was proving its myths to be
true. The place is more than cold.
When I ventured out, the mystery of it
made me stand still, watching,
listening. I knew I risked frozen lungs
if I removed my scarf, but I could
breathe out heavily through its wool
and hear my breath crackle. Read
More
