Author Archives: kmarieh1

For the Love of a Dog

“I have the perfect dog for you,” the earnest volunteer said. “He’s an old soul dog. You will love him.” Rufus came into our family on a mucky, cold December day. His ears were down, but he dutifully walked into … Continue reading

Posted in dogs, Family, Kim Hannigan, Musings | Leave a comment

Vacation People

We were not vacation people. In my photo album there are a few black and white shots of somewhere called Christmas Park, and a year later more from Lollypop Farm. Both were amusement parks in western New York that did … Continue reading

Posted in Family, Kim Hannigan, travelling | 2 Comments

Losing God

There is no date set in stone here. While my ecstatic adolescent diaries noted every reaffirmation of faith, every rededicating of my life, every hearing of a call to serve God that rocked my young life, I never wrote down … Continue reading

Posted in feminism, Kim Hannigan, language, religion | 1 Comment

Things You Could Not Ask My Mother

There are several facts about me that should be known. I was raised in an evangelical, fundamentalist Christian church. The church defined my earliest assumptions about the larger world. And for the most part, it was a warm and welcoming … Continue reading

Posted in Family, Kim Hannigan, religion, Wellsville | 1 Comment

What We Call Things, Now

Today is a gorgeous mid-autumn day — the bluest of skies, warm sunlight, fresh breezes through the drying leaves. In short, a perfect day. A perfect Indian summer day. And that name passes through my thoughts swift as an eel, … Continue reading

Posted in Kim Hannigan, language, racism | Tagged | 1 Comment

The Geranium Man

There are bad smells I can’t forget. The oily stench of paper mills in Virginia. The burnt metal odor that permeated my Dad’s work clothes, filling my mouth with a mercury taste. The rank cloud mushrooming out of the doorway … Continue reading

Posted in Family, Kim Hannigan, Wellsville | Tagged , , | 5 Comments

The Blond Blog

Michael Cooper was a better carpenter than he was a poet. I knew that when I first met him, across a bar table in Fairfax, VA, in the 1980’s. He was blond, good-looking, a compactly built man who moved with … Continue reading

Posted in Writer | 2 Comments