Somehow I Wasn't Adding Up

Granana Doesn't Understand What The Big Deal Is. She Didn't Cry At Olivia's Funeral, And I Doubt She Even Remembers Olivia's Name. Granana Lost, Like, Ninety-two Million Kids In Childbirth. All Of Her Brothers Died In The War. She Survived The Depression By Stealing Radish Bulbs From Her Neighbors' Garden, And Fishing The Elms For Pigeons. Dad Likes To Remind Us Of This In A Grave Voice, As If It Explained Her Jaundiced Pitilessness: "boys. Your Grandmother Ate Pigeons."

I Want A Real Encounter With Something True And Disconcerting About Peoples' Natures.

Myth Continues To Be A Valuable Way To Understand Parts Of Our Nature That We Can't Quantify.

In A Way, I Think We All Want To Look To That Journalistic Voice As A Kind Of Global Omniscience, A Big Eye To Correct For Our Own Limited Purview: "here's A Realistic Accounting Of The World In Which We Live."

You Don't Want People To Think You're Just Writing Stories For Children About A Pig In A Tutu.