One of the most important things in a father’s life is his legacy. The values and traditions that were instilled in them by their fathers hold special meaning and urgency to pass on to their children. Unfortunately, sometimes their kids are resistant to bare the family crest. In my family, the tradition is fishing and I, a very unwilling fisherman.
This story was written and performed in 2001. Its called Gone Fishin’.
If there is one thing that we, as a people, should never underestimate it is the imagination and creativity of youth. This imagination can manifest into a refrigerator box that turns into a space ship, a fort made of a card table and blankets can be a castle, or a pink costume dress can ordain a princess. One of the more popular uses of my young creativity was playing House.
This story was written in 1998. Its the second part in my preschool series. Its called, Eat This.
It’s back to school time. The summer of leisure for kids across the nation is now ending and it is time to back to the days of structure, homework, and social interaction. I always remember the first day of school to be an exciting time. My brand new backpack filled with brand new school supplies; my new trapper keeper, my new pencils, my new homework planner that I would use for about a week and then never touch again. I would get to see all the friends that I didn’t see all summer and life would start anew. However, there was one first day, the very first day, which I was not so excited about. It was my first day of preschool.
This story was written in 1998 as one of two parts in my preschool series. It’s called Emergency Pants.
I Know How It Is… An Online Community Magazine of Essays, Short Stories, and Social Commentary, to read more stories or to find out how you can contribute, please go to iknowhowitis.com
The subject of race has been put in the forefront of American politics as we get ready to elect the first African American President of the United States. While in a perfect world, the color of someone’s skin wouldn’t matter; they wouldn’t have to have polls that asked likely voters if the country is ready for a black president. In 1984, the subject of race entered my life when my mother bought me a black cabagepatch kid, who I named Timothy-John.
This story was written and performed in July of 2005.
One of the biggest transitions in life, if not the biggest, is the one that happens while you are in middle school. Between the braces face, the oily skin, the changing voice, and a constant and annoying erection, you are some how supposed to get an education. Tonight, my Middle School story, written and performed in 2004.
by Cece Jones
Though I’ve considered it, I have never written anything online before, even though I have opinions and know how to write a paragraph. I’ve thought many times that I might try, at least for therapeutic/cathartic purposes, but have delayed for no particular reason. But, I have now been mobilized by outside circumstances and can no longer keep silent.
What has caused me to break my silence at this time? Is it the insulting, disheartening propaganda accompanying the presidential campaign? Is it the ever-eroding state of civil liberties in this country? The Iraq war? Global warming?
No. It is this. Not any one of those sensitive and worthy topics, but this.
from My Mind Vomit
by J. Michael Haas
“You know, you really act older than your age.” My aunt Rene told me. I had just turned 8 and I was sitting on the couch watching the news with my dad.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked sharply, as if her statement was a dig.
“Well, most nine year olds I know don’t watch the news.” She said with a smile.
I looked up at her and furrowed my brow and said. “How many 8 year olds do you know?”
“Well, besides you… none, it just doesn’t seem like a little kid thing to do.”
“So I’m a little kid now… I like the news, perhaps you prefer I watch the Mon Chi Chi’s and wet the bed.” I don’t really know why I was so defensive, and truth be told, The Mon Chi Chi’s was my favorite cartoon, I used to sing the theme song in the bath tub with choreography and everything… of course no one saw that. “Way up in the trees with the Mon Chi Chi’s,” splash, splash, splash, splash, “Mon Chi Chis, Mon Chi Chis.”
Let it be said that putting irons in my fire is what I do best. I’m pushing the restart on this blog and making it more of a personal journal, podcast, and hopefully a new community of contributors adding essays, comments, and their smarty-pants-ed-ness. If you are interested in submitting work (essays, short stories, commentary) please click on the SUBMIT YOUR WORK link to your right.
COME BACK SOON for announcements on the first podcast, more stories, essays, and fun.