Willard Earle Dezotelle, Sr. Today we celebrated the life of my grandfather, Willard Earle Dezotelle, Sr. His funeral was held in a tiny, country church in Waterville, VT, the town he and his late wife – my grandmother – Delia Dezotelle called home for decades. Their ashes were buried together in a lovely cemetery in …
Tag: family
Why I Write: A Book of Letters
If I’ve read Dear Mr. Henshaw once – and I established in this month’s installment of With Apologies to Hornby that I recently did – I’ve read it at least 50 times. From fourth through most of eighth grade, that book was my go-to. I’d read it, close it, flip to the beginning and start …
Deep Cut
I’m on vacation this week, and one of my goals is sorting through various writing projects – all in various stages of completion – and refocusing my efforts as I head into summer and getting my first novel ready for an editor’s eyes.The piece I’m sharing here was written four years ago tomorrow, which is …
Talking with Zadok, pt. 7
Tuesday, Jan. 28, 1987I was so tired all day. My sleep was fitful, filled with bad dreams about Mom and Dad, the farm, and my report about Zadok. Stuff was all jumbled up, like Zadok and the cows from the farm being taken away by the government, but the government was these weird-looking guys in …
Talking with Zadok, pt. 6
Monday, Jan. 27, 1987I was in a foul mood at dinner that night. After tearing my hard work apart and making me feel like an idiot about my report on Zadok, Mr. Gilman made me go with him to the office to call Mrs. Cooke. She agreed right away to meet with me after school …
Opening Day
Saturday, Nov. 8, 1986 I kneeled on the green living room couch, facing backward and watching Dad walk up through the back pasture and into the woods. He was easy to spot against the frosty white field behind the barn; even after he crossed into the woods. Green wool pants, red-and-black checkered wool jacket, red …
The Costume
Saturday, Oct. 25, 1986 “Oh my god! You’re not actually wearing that thing inside are you?” The tail lights of Mom and Dad’s car were barely out of sight, and it was already happening. I didn’t need to look to see who owned the shrill voice, but I did anyway. Half-blind from the eye holes …
