“It’s spelled ‘Rossie’ not ‘Rosie’,” said my brother. He was talking about my recent post in which I mentioned that as a young boy, when I was sick, I spent time reading books, and one of the stories that stuck in my mind was “Our Miss Rosie.” The story was about a white lady who takes a pair of African-American…
“Need Doctor Vomit,” said Nikhil. He was at the kitchen island, hunched over his iPad as he articulated the words using the icons on his app. He looked ill. In fact, he had looked under the weather the previous evening and we had let him sleep in having called his transport office earlier in the morning to let them know…