My mother is deep in her bed with her socks on, sticking out. She never wore socks, so I remember it surprised me. Her heels were always cracked, like mine are now, and though she perpetually tried to soften them, with creams and socks and special razors, in the summer they immediately toughened up, calloused […]Read more "In the Jungle"
I’m writing about food foraging for my MFA. I advise others to be extremely careful when foraging for wild food. Avoid poisoning yourself. “When in doubt, throw it out,” and all that. But I can be rash when deciding what to put in my own mouth. My thesis adviser suggested I explore this paradoxical way […]Read more "My Father on Foraging for Berries and Bears"
After a sweaty and dusty safari, my family relaxed in the pool of our camp in Masai Mara, Kenya. Don’t let the term “camp” fool you. The tents were as large and luxurious as hotel rooms. Above my father and sister’s heads was a tree we had seen here and there on our travels through […]Read more "Don’t Eat That"