In A Waymo

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touch a screen, little jaguar steering wheel turns, autonomous ghost driver
i wave to the world through tinted glass & white paint
inside the robot i am jonah, trapped by this modern god
offers me music, urges me to buckle up
i am mortal after all
spared from uber or lyft, they will eventually disappear, with their needless human chatter
i am in control now, my app does it all, my phone controls it, controls me
i don’t have a name anymore, just initials perched on top of this vehicle
this thing
my new metal deity, my mindless destiny

John A. Williams/Crouch & Fitzgerald

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The great-grandchild is me. My mother just sent me this obituary. I had never seen it before.
My great-grandfather was the Owner and President of Crouch & Fitzgerald (something I literally just learned).


Crouch & Fitzgerald was a prestigious New York-based luxury leather goods company, renowned for its high-quality luggage and travel accessories, including steamer trunks and briefcases. Established in 1839, the company was known for its skilled craftsmanship, particularly custom-made items for wealthy clients like Franklin Delano Roosevelt. The business closed sometime in the early 2000s but continues to be recognized today through vintage products sold on platforms like Etsy and eBay.

I remember my grandmother speaking about living in New York City, seeing (maybe meeting?) Babe Ruth in her building, attending the Veltin School for Girls, but I never thought to ask about her father’s work.

For those of you that actually know me, I’ve been a history teacher for most of my adult life, so of course I find this all very fascinating!

For more information on Crouch & Fitzgerald visit: https://crouchandfitzgerald.wordpress.com/category/the-legacy/

Alone in Winnipeg

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how odd that I am here in october, scarred
scraped streets, waiting for the return of snow, searching for eleanor, a name, my mother, the one who let me go, adopted, how many times have i said the word? euphemism for unwanted, union of man & woman, for a minute? an hour? a lifetime? questions for canada, where she danced before moving to the u.s. to birth me-
alone in the archives, sifting through microfiche, obituaries, royal winnipeg ballet documents, playbills, eleanor christie, just a name, everything & nothing-
at night i dine on foie gras at resto gare in saint-boniface, flickering french lights, wine’s floating ether, who was she? who am i?-
shiver of winter air’s arrival, i tried, but you are gone.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This piece is poetic fiction. I am not adopted.

Start of School

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Dear Students,

My symbol is the Redbud tree. I chose this symbol because each leaf of the tree is a heart. The Redbud tree displays these heart-shaped leaves to all people and creatures who come near. As a teacher I have been giving my heart to students for many, many years. I love the ephemeral process of spending a year of my time with young people; reading, writing, thinking, discussing, and growing with you all. The Redbud tree eventually must say goodbye to its leaves, and in June that will also happen with us. But while the tree is nurturing its leaves, beauty is abundant. I am a believer in trees, they give us oxygen, provide shade, and literally hold the earth together with their roots. Trees are also not in a hurry; they don’t have iPads, or iPhones, or email. I can imagine trees observing us and wondering why we don’t take more time to just be and listen. I try to listen and just be, like Redbud trees. I believe that all of us have inner wisdom that comes from listening to our own voice, that quiet place where we intuitively know who we really are. It is my hope that through this English class you will nurture your inner voice through writing, thinking, discussing, and sometimes, just being.