Archive for May, 2011
My father left in 1969, when I was six and he was forty-five. He got a VW microbus, a nineteen-year-old blonde, and started making up for time lost on the three kids and the drunkard wife back in Maine. He was chasing hard after the tail end of the ’60s. I always supposed it must have been a tough time for a man to be tied down—watching all that chaos out there, while having to stay home and diaper the kids and pay the bills.
by Julio Medina
I shuffled into the Albany County courthouse, cuffed and shackled, to hear my sentence. My mom was there with my brothers and sisters. I was twenty-five at the time and the leader of a drug gang that included ten other people. The judge read my crimes: nine counts of conspiracy and various offenses related to hand grenades and the cache of machine guns the police had found.
I had never met Ron Cowie before sitting down with him — and his 5-year-old-daughter, Kiki — at a picnic table at Coffee Roasters in Tiverton, Rhode Island. I knew only of his series of haunting photographs, “Leaving Babylon,” done shortly before his wife’s death.