Hello, Asthma, My Old Friend

Growing Up in Fresno, Where There’s No Such Thing As a Good-Air Day

I don’t remember learning the word “asthma”–any more than I remember learning the words “pizza” or “dog.” In Fresno, California, where I was born in 1989, all those terms were familiar.

In most respects, my childhood was normal. Every day, my mom would pack my lunch, and my dad and our dog, Reeses, would walk me to Cole Elementary School. When we reached the spot where the chain-link fence met the blacktop, we’d wave goodbye. Then, with my lunch pail in hand, I would join the hordes of elementary school …

The Key to the Garden (Grove)

At Hill’s Brothers Lock & Safe, Doors Get Opened

“The Secret Garden was what Mary called it when she was thinking of it. She liked the name, and she liked still more the feeling that when its beautiful old …