just jane

I was five years old. My mother and I were watching TV. Suddenly, she turned to me and made a dramatic announcement: “Jane, my wish for you is that you never have kids. It was the biggest mistake of my life.” Mom drew on her Winston Light, gazing into the middle distance, with what seemed […]

Born in 1899, my grandma Esther Knickerbocker was a short, squat German woman who shook the pictures on the wall as she bustled through her big house. She and Grandpa had a farm, which was quickly becoming surrounded by sprawling suburban tract homes. My family lived across the street in a tiny house, which had […]

The bell rang. Mom pulled up. I ran over to the car and hopped in. She turned out of the parking lot and began her usual play-by-play recap of her day. Our ride home was her opportunity to talk to a captive audience, and she took advantage of it. I was in first grade. Life […]

I am sprawled on a riverbank in the pouring rain, face down in the dirt. Hundreds of buzzing black flies swarm me. They burrow into my hair, bite my hands, crawl up my shirt. This has been going on for hours. I have resigned myself to waiting patiently for the end to come. No, I […]

When I introduced this blog, I called it “Just Jane.” Because it seemed that was all that was left around here. Just Jane. You see, for the past 20 years my identity was pretty much “Just Mom.” I bet many readers can relate. “Hey Mom, when I was three, I thought your first name was […]