First thing every day, I count out the same colorful cocktail of medications into Mother's four containers: morning, midday, evening meal and nighttime. Two pink pills shortly after waking up, and ... [+]
"For even saintly folk will act like sinners / unless they have their customary dinners."
Bertolt Brecht, The Threepenny Opera
We decide to celebrate the Fourth of July at Parker's Dam. There's not much to celebrate. JJ's been laid off at the railroad yard, and there's only enough food left for the kids' breakfast. I'd go to the Salvation Army for help, but today's a holiday.
Chris and Rosebud sit at the table, wiping the last of the bread against the sides of the almost-empty jelly jar. If we go to the lake, I remind them, there's nothing for a picnic lunch.
"That's okay," Chris say