Genre: Essays

Paddle

Row! 

My first word.

My mother heard me say it in our brick house with blue shutters in Jacksonville, Florida. She had sung me the nursery rhyme many times, pretending to paddle a boat with her arms. Four pine …

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The Gay Horizon

The first twenty minutes in line outside the bathhouse sound like thunder. The Broncos have just played—maybe won—at Mile High Stadium, and if it weren’t for a block of four-story apartment buildings we ’d be looking down on the city …

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The Lonely Ruralist

Reinhabitation was my dream. But in rural America there’s a chasm between what is real and what is myth.

I lived my entire life to arrive on the farm. Ten years ago this quiet, quiet place had everything I wanted. …

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My Father, the Atomic Bomb

I would not be who I am today were it not for the Bomb. 

Had there not been a bomb, my biological father—a Manhattan Project physicist—would not have died in 1951 from radiation-induced cancer a month before my fourth birthday, …

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To Our Readers: A Postscript

In this Fall 2019 issue of The Georgia Review, the last with which I will be involved, Anne Wright’s essay “On the Farm”—about her late husband, James Wright (1928–1980), and his important involvement with fellow poet Robert Bly—opens with …

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