There's the tendency to embellish,
make the story more exciting,
of else to hide unpleasant truths,
expunge the details that make your
Grandpa Leo less than blameless,
Cousin Ruby's face go red. Facts
are facts unless you happen to realize
that one day soon you'll be midway
through Thanksgiving turkey in the
family dining room when accusations
start to fly, and there you are, the author,
choosing if you'll hold your ground
or flee, banished to a cold and lonely
coffee house: exiled while the relatives
go on with turkey and with giblet gravy,
your sister sneering at the empty place
from which you fled.
Ralph Hausser, 7/2011
