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By Rita Gardner

Whose voice is it anyway?

When faced with the inevitable – that I must write a memoir (the “must” propelled by an inner transmission that just wouldn’t shut off) – I did what I’m sure others have – questioned my sanity.  A residency at Hedgebrook helped me focus on accepting that I am, indeed, a writer.  However, how could I, who perfected the art of invisibility, write a book that would expose me?  I comforted myself by telling myself no one would have to see the finished product if I deemed it inadequate.  After all, I thought I was already not-good-enough – I didn’t finish college, much less got that coveted MFA that seems to be de rigueur for any real writer.  So – maybe I could write and still have it not be my story.   Read more

By Sarah Samudre

Christmas Baking: A Rite of Remembrance



Tonight I made a century-old family recipe passed down from my great-great grandfather, written above for my Mom in 1977 by Grandma as a Christmas/Welcome to the Salcedos gift. It was for Lemon Bread and Lemon Curd— my father’s favorite baked good at Christmas. Throughout the years, Grandma would give jars of the curd and loaves of lemon bread at Christmas and my Dad would rave to us about it, as if we’d never heard of dessert before.

The baking started as a nice thing to do for my Dad, to remind him of her and how she’ll live on in our Christmas traditions. It became something else.   Read more