I have a bit of a sketch about my great-uncle Meyer Krasner. I’ve been thinking about his possible attention to detail and precision as a tailor. His grandson tells me he’d been known to make himself a ham sandwich when visiting my grandparents at their store’s deli counter.
This week I’m writing about the basement in my childhood family home. It’s one of those places that both scared me and gave me room to play. For my father, it was his man-cave where he worked at his hobbies in his tiny office and recorded classical and big-band concerts on reel-to-reel tape from public radio broadcasts. For my twin sister and me, it was a place for playing and parties as long as we stayed away from the earthen corner of the laundry room.
Other Work in Progress
I’ve been reading Sonja Livingston’s Ghost Bread to get a better feel for these snapshots. But the one thing I relish in my own writing is the moment of epiphany.
Who else among you is writing #52snapshots?