My uncle lived in the warehouse district of Toledo, not far from a Pizza Papalis and a Blarney Irish Pub. He didn’t work, lived on government checks and “gifts” from my parents. My father blamed his unemployment on a “poor… Continue Reading
A gun blasted and the living room window shattered, glass showering Hassan. He ran to the couch. Auntie Fatima grabbed him and held him close with the other two children. Someone screamed in the parking lot outside. Tires screeched and… Continue Reading
He looked across the breakfast table, knowing that soon he’d have to choose his words carefully. It was the same every year. First the flags popped out along their quiet suburban street. Then the television broadcasts of news, parades, observances… Continue Reading