Home is Burning: a Review of the Memoir

...white as a Mormon.

...the smell of cat piss and dying parent..

"I wasn't ready to become an official member of the 'Dead Dads Club'."

This gleefully irreverent and vulgar remembrance is just what the doctor SHOULD HAVE ordered. Marshall tells it like it is, no Pollyanna "think positive" white wash of the gritty details of living with parents dying from ALS, aka Lou Gehrig's Disease and Cancer from a spoiled child-turned-caregiver's point of view.

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Creep

Have you ever used the internet to look up an old flame? How about an old arch-enemy? Did you have the intention to reconnect? Me neither.

I Remember...

I remember catching fireflies, putting them in a jar, as a girl of five. I picked pears off a tree that overhung an alleyway on my route home from school, then enjoyed the forbidden fruit. .I had a golden cat who chased a gray mouse through our living room sending my mother, 3-year old sister, and me screaming atop the sofa and chairs. We lived in a farmhouse and I watched Romper Room. A daddy longlegs skittered across my dirty kid legs as I teeter-tottered on a broken kitchen chair back. I played grocery store and laid out a bedroll for group nap time in preschool. We lived in an apartment attached to a bakery. My maternal grandparents visited and a photo was snapped. Grandma held Dawn and Grandpa held me. I held Grandpa's chin. Walking through the back of the flour-caked kitchen, I saw scrumptious pastries and colorful toys stuck in the cupcakes with my hungry kids eyes. We lived in a two-story apartment building next door to a large farmer's field. That field was my

Sweet Tooth

Can a chocoholic have other confectionary favorites?

IntrinsicTina

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