VOICES FROM OVER THE HILL AND THROUGH VERMONT

Dedicated to Kenneth Ronald Brown, my husband of 31 years. He crossed over on April 26, 2026. My husband was a Marine. In death, he is still a Marine. I used to say, “ex-Marine,” but there is no such thing. Once the legendary end of boot camp “Crucible” is conquered and the Eagle, Globe and Anchor is pinned to your lapel, you are a Marine until the end of time. In September of 1998, Parris Island arrived in Ridgewood NJ when Ken took a part-time job as a crossing guard at a c

It scared the shit out of me, the thought of running my fingers across the crass abs of those Greek gods straight out of 1970, with their pornstaches and tight pants, so much that I backed away, Not me I thought, let someone else be the guinea pig. Oh, come on, the jackass called, the one with the tattoo, come on, dive in, the water’s fine. Indeed, if you looked past all that simmering man flesh, the sea was cobalt, blue as barren balls. The other jackass, the quiet on

July 4, 2026 Dear KC, Gosh it’s been a long time. Rich and I have been wanting to write for a while now, but as you might imagine, we’ve been busy. However, we heard that you have been experiencing some challenges lately and wanted to let you know you are in our thoughts. Hearing about your recent troubles has resulted in our reminiscing about how the three of us met and how our relationship grew to be as strong as it is now. Goodness, it was so long ago. I was an 18-year-old

I am grateful for home, sweet solitude, memories, pets, food three times a day (a bit more during the holidays AND my birthday) my town, a car that starts, clothes on my back, hair on my head, what is left of my family and friends in various stages of coming and going. Exercise, what I still have of my health, laughter, books, insight, notebooks, shoes, shampoo, kindness, dark chocolate, just enough money, watches, soft socks, smooth-writing pens, brakes, air conditioning in

On the early morning of September 11, 2001, I had arrived at school at about 6:30 as usual and had no reason to believe it would be other than a typical day. After greeting students as they arrived on their buses and chatting with parents dropping off their kids, I was working with a small group of students in the library for about half an hour. When I returned to our office, Donna, the school secretary, informed me that she heard on the news that a plane had hit the World Tr

Two lads holding onto a double sized tarp, pulling it up over the top of two fully loaded hay wagons when the wind picks up. Those boys fight hard and win, until the wind grabs the tarp as if to yank it and billow it up and off the wagon. The boys do not give up. Meanwhile, a tractor is out in the field chasing windrows that are running faster than the tractor hauling the baler can keep up with. Fully powering the tractor, means the baler is going top speed. The driver looks