Blog, Reflecting

I Want My Mullet Back

As a 10-year old in the heart of the 80s, proudly sporting the fashionable mullet, life was pretty simple. From what I remember, the only thing that plagued my high-top wearing and neon-clad self was homework and friend woes. However, memories have a way of getting cloudy as we get older and the good times override the bad times in our minds. We induct ourselves into sainthood and wipe away any recollections of mischief. Read the rest at

Blog, Reflecting

Last Holiday

Some of my favorite childhood memories stem from Grandma J’s house. It was one of the smallest two-story houses on one of the busiest streets of the city, but all I remember is how big it was in my eyes. It was a place where big memories were made. I can remember sledding down the hill that led to her backyard with my cousins, playing house in the abandoned bedrooms upstairs, and finding Easter eggs in her sitting room when it was rainy outside. Most of all, though, I remember decorating Grandma’s tree the weekend before Christmas every year. She would play Andy Williams records and cousins, aunts, and uncles would gather in her little kitchen to eat hamburgers and chili. She was the only one I knew who used real tinsel on her tree and even though we made a mess that haunted her Read the rest at