Michael Hinman
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I’ll never forget the last time I saw my stepmother, even though by then she’d already forgotten me. It was last year in the Florida hospice center Helen had lived in . . . more
My parents were worried the moment I laid eyes on the apartment for the very first time. It was the entire top floor of a car dealership just off what would eventually become Interstate 86, at the edge of the Finger Lakes region upstate. This would be my first apartment — my first home outside the family home where I grew up in Pennsylvania. more
It was dated June 10, 1927, written from a home no longer standing at Exchange Street in Rochester, to a young woman in Ellicottville named Lola. more
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