Our house sat in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by alfalfa and grapes.
He worked 10 hours a day at manual labor.
I stayed home with baby, writing at a Formica kitchen table.
Friday nights we gathered an old army blanket, bologna, beer and baby, laying them all on the front lawn.
Philco radio filled with D batteries turned until the long rabbit-ears found him.
“Ayeee boys and girls, it’s the Wolfman” soared from an outlaw station somewhere in Mexico.
Creedence, Smokey and Roy Orbison filled the darkness while baby laughed at the stars.
--Susan J., Adult Guest