Posts tagged "Ecuador"

My Love Affair in Glorious Black & White: Why Amazon Rules

Or, why Amazon loves the Chicago Public Library. Memory of  life before reading is a blank. Zip-zero-zilch. Given that I didn’t have the language–how could I put into words a memory? What is it like to not be able to read? I have no memory of my life before literacy. None. Words have always danced... Read more »

One Regret I Regret: or, if only I'd known what I know now

           If Dr. Who parked his time-traveling, blue police box TARDIS outside of my door, I’d revisit the younger me. That 21-year-old who agonized whether to follow her gut instinct and go to Lima, Peru to live with her American boyfriend and his family in 1972.  As my younger self’s guardian angel, I’d whisper “Yes–take that... Read more »

Nude Naked after NATO STILL

Denuded of the post boxes in the South Loop around 18th and S. Calumet/S. Indiana before NATO, we waited patiently for their return. Still no post boxes. Hard to support the USPS w/o post boxes. Called the local post station at 20th and State. Told, “we are doing a study.” No boxes till then? WHAT?????... Read more »
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Bribery, every body does it.

Stop right there. What are you, a teenager? The argument that it is okay to do something that it is most assuredly not okay to do because “every body does it,” sounds like the reasoning of an adolescent wanting a later curfew. Really. America I hate to give you any factual information, but no. Everybody... Read more »

The Rat in the Toilet

Leaves pile up at the foot of the dogwood tree where the bored 11-year-old girl sits perched like an eagle, gazing expectantly out to the horizon. If only something would happen, if only there was something new, something different. That evening she feels like she won the lottery when told by her parents that they... Read more »
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    Candace Drimmer

    I was an accidental expatriate; love and marriage led me to it. One day I was a bandy-legged kid sitting atop my dogwood tree looking out of my small backyard world in 1950s New Jersey, wanting to move somewhere--anywhere, different. Next thing I knew my father had accepted a job in Houston TX. I was ecstatic, it was a foreign land in 1961 America. After high school graduation, my parents’ gave me a matched set of fawn-colored hardsided American Tourister luggage. Taking the hint, I went to college; well four colleges in five years--it was the 60s after all. Meeting a young hirsute anti-war, soon-to-be-Peace Corps volunteer, I fell in love. After finishing up college coursework for my degree, but before I even walking a graduation stage, I grabbed the paper airline ticket my boyfriend had sent me, my brand-new passport, and was off to the airport and Lima, Peru.

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