Spare Parts

*The following are two short stories of fiction. They were written straight out of my head and strictly for my own amusement. Do not attempt to attach any similarities to events real, or imagined and let go of all preconceived ideas. No one was harmed in the telling of these stories. And Betty Makes Four When Albert’s mother called that Thursday evening, he checked the Caller ID and took a deep breath before he picked up. “Yes, Ma?” Silence. “Ma?” “Al, it’s Mom.” Betty said into the phone. She still couldn’t understand the concept of Caller ID and obviously didn’t hear Albert call her Ma twice. “Yeah, what’s up?” “Al, I’ve left your father. I’m…I’m already on a bus now. I’m coming to Brooklyn. Can I stay with you and Meagan for a few…days?” Albert took a breath as if someone punched him in the gut. "You did what, Ma? Are you serious?" That's when he heard his mother whimper and stifle a cry and knew it was true. He visualized her on an empty bus, alone and scared and his

About a year ago, Oprah asked some prominent women to think about what they would say to their younger selves, if they were given the chance to talk to the girls they once were. She published their letters in her magazine. Among the women were Hillary Clinton, author Edwidge Danticat, Maya Angelou and Maria Shriver. It got me thinking about some of the things I would say to my younger self with the knowledge I have today, if I had such an amazing opportunity. I am writing to Marilyn in 1984. She is 14 years old and about to leave the bruised and battered cocoon of junior high school. It hasn’t been easy and she is anything, but hopeful. From junior high, she is taking some answers with her, but mostly she is heading out with infinitely more questions. Dear Marilyn, I hope you know how special you are and how many gifts God has bestowed upon you. Despite this, you seem to have low self-esteem and an innate ability to second-guess yourself at every turn. Things will get better

Here’s a secret. I have never in my life felt like I fit in in New York City. For as long as I have had to come here, I have felt like an outsider. There has never been a comfort zone where I found my place. Instead, there has always been a feeling of separation and suspension, as if my body is sprawled, arms and legs wide open on a glass orb where I am merely afforded an opportunity to peek in on the City inside the orb, but never to be a real part of it. I liken it to holding a snow globe in your hands and seeing the tiny miniature figurine inside. I guess that is why I have never truly cared to work in the City, though oddly have found myself back here time and time again. By necessity more than choice, I walk around a lot in the mornings or during lunch. Every time the many put-together, slick city folks both amaze me and make me feel microscopic or nonexistent. I come across so many instances in a day of ways in which I don’t measure up. To some people the City is like a second s

My ears are still ringing from Tuesday night’s metal show at the PNC Arts Center in Holmdel, NJ. It’s a yearly summer ritual Joe and I have attended since I can recall us dating. What makes up the metal/hair band tours are bands I refer to as has-beens and which Joe might refer to as…amazing? They are the groups who ruled the early days of MTV with their debauchery and decadence as rockers with too much of everything: Too much make-up, too much hairspray, too much sex and too much alcohol. Back in the 80s you couldn’t turn on the radio without hearing one of these bands screeching about unrequited love, a lover’s spat or screwing love all together and just going for the good lay. All it took for the reign of the hair band to end was one little word that came straight out of Seattle: grunge. Led by the now-deceased Kurt Cobain and his on-purpose misery-strewn band, Nirvana, grunge came to knock the pretty out of music and replace it with unwashed clothes, skin and hair and music with “a

"We have nothing to fear but fear itself" ----- Franklin Delano Roosevelt What a visionary and prophetic statement. I think about that phrase a lot. Mostly because of how I think it applies to me in so many instances in my life. At the moment, it applies to my fear of failure. Fears come in many forms. Some fear is good because it makes you cautious of things that could harm you. For example, you fear fire or a car accident because it can do a great deal of harm to you. Other fears are irrational like never letting your kids outside because you fear someone will kidnap them, or they’ll get hurt, or lost. Or fearing that you have no friends because you’re always paranoid that people won’t like you. Some fear is quite rational and justifiable, as is the fear of someone who has hurt you before. That is what I call legitimate fear. If you fear another person or thing, because in the past it (or he or she) has hurt you physically or emotionally, that is justified. Fear