The storm settled in. In the Midwest, people often sit on porches to watch thunderstorms or tornadoes, holding coffee or sweet tea. We're both fascinated and afraid of storms, drawn to their awe but sometimes forgetting the danger.  That stormy feeling covered me as a pre-teen, wandering Louisville's Highlands streets at night. I spent nights aimlessly, seeking distraction from home. Whoever wandered with me was welcome if it meant escaping reality, smoking, listening to a
The Weight of Childhood Trauma It was 1974. The year that marked the end of the Vietnam War, brought us Elton John’s "Bennie and the Jets," and gifted us "The Godfather Part II." I was nine years old, a time filled with carefree days of goofing off in class, riding bikes, and staying up late on summer nights. The world felt like an endless horizon of hope, where I could look up at a boundless sky and dream of a wide-open future. That’s how it should be for a nine-year-old, ri
Typically, these things are more of a feeling or a sudden awareness. This one was not. It was clear and pronounced. Still, I kept working. I just wasn’t sure.
