By Roberta Schine When I was a junior at Central High School, Mike Ventura invited me to Cornell University’s homecoming weekend. We had gone out a few times when he was still in Bridgeport. Once, he took me to Beardsley Park Zoo. Another time we sat in the Merritt Canteen…
by Nadja K. McGlinn The nurse in the cubicle where my husband and I got our second shots of the COVID-19 remarked that everyone she’d injected that day had the scar from a smallpox vaccination, meaning we were old—old enough to have still gotten them as children. She noted I…
by Jessica Hensley Students at Southern New Hampshire University were invited to submit essays in celebration of women’s contributions to society, with a focus on a particular woman who inspired the writer to share her story. This essay was chosen to be published in The Penmen Review on International Women’s…
by Mark Howard In 2017, I left being a successful financial business owner to become a fifty-seven-year-old, first-year high school English teacher. I made that change because I wanted to. Now, countless thousands are being faced with a career change because of the pandemic. In my little town, there are…
by Marnie Lyn Adams Writing—or avoiding it—is a stressful business. The critical element to evade creative writing of any type—from a George R. R. Martin-length series to a haiku—is to maintain productive activity while neglecting your long-term writing goals. However, with practice and a focus on diversionary tactics, you too…
by Susan Spadafora My mother’s sister and family came to visit. Since my cousin Marie was only a year older than me, she was invited to stay a bit longer so we could play together. There was a family get-together planned for the next Sunday, with relatives from my father’s…
by Sue Allison If you haven’t thought it in a year, throw it out. Ditto if it is out of style, has holes in it, or doesn’t fit you. It may have never fit you in the first place, or you’ve outgrown it. Likewise, scrutinize thoughts that have, as a…
by Anthony Mohr In 1961, when I was fourteen, downtown Los Angeles was a gritty place to flee at sundown, full of drunks, addicts, and prostitutes. My pal Robbie wanted to take me there. He loved it. He’d walk down Main Street, wander through pawn shops, and meet what, many…
by Nina Schuyler I’m watching Woody Allen’s movie, The Purple Rose of Cairo, again. Tom Baxter has just stepped out of the film and waltzed right into the darkened, popcorn-infested theater. Picture gum under the seats, on the floor. Mia Farrow, who has been in a lovely trance watching Baxter…
by Khristy Knudtson The Midwest region of the United States garners a reputation that is unlike any other. Wisconsin, where I have lived all of my life, embodies airs of apologetic pleasantries in almost every interaction. This concept of “Midwestern nice” is a pervasive descriptor of the Midwestern people—it defines…