Category
Family Stories
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02.01.07Imagine a FutureImagine a Future © 2007 Brooke Allen brooke@brookeallen.net www.BrookeAllen.net Originally published in International Family Magazine In January of 1996 our two sons were six and eight years old. Being a dad wasn't working out as I'd hoped. I grew up on Leave it to Beaver and Father Knows Best. Our home was more like The Simpsons or Married With Children. That January I found myself on an airplane sitting next to a woman who is a psychologist and an expert on rearing children. I asked her for advice on how to be a better dad. We talked for hours and she had many sensible suggestions. As we approached ...
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01.01.07SublimationSublimation © 2007 Brooke Allen brooke@brookeallen.net www.BrookeAllen.net Originally published in International Family Magazine "Granddad, something's different." "What's that?" "I haven't seen you smoking a cigar since we got here." "I quit a year ago." "Why? I thought you loved those things." "Nope. I hated them." This was puzzling. "If you hated them, then why did you smoke." "It started in the 1920's. I was the head of the United Press office in Havana. The other men in the office told me that, since I was the highest paid man there, it was entirely appropriate, expected even, that I have a mistress." "When I told your grandmother that everyone thought I should ...
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10.01.06Shortness of Breath – Shortness of TimeShortness of Breath - Shortness of Time © 2006 Brooke Allen brooke@brookeallen.net www.BrookeAllen.net Originally published in International Family Magazine In November of 1995, my father, Thomas J. Allen, Jr. was admitted to Kings Hospital in London, England complaining of shortness of breath. I flew over to see him and he seemed in good spirits though he was having problem breathing. It could have been from the 438,425 cigarettes he’d smoked in his life. I took the train from London to Cornwall to meet up with my Uncle at my grandparent’s flat in Truro. I arrived to find a message. My dad had taken a turn ...
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07.01.06How I Learned to Wiggle My EarsHow I Learned to Wiggle My Ears © 2006 Brooke Allen brooke@brookeallen.net www.BrookeAllen.net Originally published in International Family Magazine You might be amazed to know that you have muscles that you have not yet wired up to your brain. When we mowed the lawn by hand, it was a simple matter to steer around the many large rocks in our fields. Once we automated the process, we needed to remove them. We piled the stones behind the barn while we thought of a use for them. "Ah hah," my dad lit up one day, "We can paint them white and use them to line the driveway." He ...
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06.01.06Time to Get MarriedTime to Get Married[*] © 2008 Brooke Allen brooke@brookeallen.net www.BrookeAllen.net We had been dating for a year when I began to wonder to myself, “Is this the woman I should marry?” I started asking everyone I came across, “How does one tell if someone is ‘the right one?’” A young female squealed, “When you speak baby talk to each other. Isn’t that right daadeee?” “Goo goo.” He replied. Yuck. “When your hearts join as one,” was the simultaneous reply of an old couple on a bus. I was enthralled… until a fight broke out between them. “I was speaking.” “You always interrupt me.” “Oh, shut-up.” “You’ll just know.” ...
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05.01.06HOW GRANDMOTHER WON GRANDDAD IN A BEAUTY CONTEST My Grandma Anne was a southern belle born and raised in Dallas. Granddad Tom was raised in Chicago and sent from home at 14 to earn has way as a man. They met in New York City. Anne had entered a beauty contest. In those days (before the bikini) young ladies were judged on poise, grace and intelligence. She won. First prize: a week in New York. All expenses paid. At first she was excited. Then it occurred to her that she didn't know a soul in that Yankee city. A friend set up ...
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05.01.06Permalink: Choose AdventureCHOOSE ADVENTURE © 2006 Brooke Allen brooke@brookeallen.net www.BrookeAllen.net Originally published May 2006 in International Family Magazine In 1966 my sister, Ruth, and I spent eight summer weeks in St. Mawes, Cornwall, a sleepy fishing village with a population of perhaps 200 souls. My grandmother had fallen in love with a two bedroom thatched cottage that had been built in 1450 as sleeping quarters for the guards at St. Mawes Castle. During that summer we had no television, no VCR, no CD player, no iPod, no Internet and no computer games. We didn't even have a telephone; we used the payphone at the village square. ...
