by Betsy Graziani Fasbinder | Jun 13, 2019 | Short Stories
With a name like Wallace Quesenberry, I took a certain ration of razzing when I was a kid. Queezy-Berry, Qually Weezenberry, and later on the high school ball team, guys with names like Buck Foster and Jack Zonka dubbed me Wheezin’ Dingle Berry. Whatever crap I... 
by Betsy Graziani Fasbinder | Jun 13, 2019 | Short Stories
This piece was originally produced by Tim O’Connor for the Readers’ Theater in Historic Nevada City, CA. Julian was stunned when she called. “Uh, sure. Yeah, I’d, uh, love to, uh, get together.” How magnanimous of him. Adonis gracing her to share a cocktail…for old... 
by Betsy Graziani Fasbinder | May 31, 2019 | Memoir, Short Stories
If my family was a box of crayons, it would be 96 pack with the built-in sharpener—that not everyone puts to good use. We have our primary colors and pastels. Our neons, metallics, and psychedelics. No matter how vast the assortment, a few stray colors just don’t seem... 
by Betsy Graziani Fasbinder | May 31, 2019 | Memoir, Short Stories
The earthy fragrance of coffee tugs me back to tender times. To honey-sweet and tear-salted moments spent with the women who have graced my life, steaming mugs between us on one or another kitchen table. In my family, girls of three or four got coffee while we... 
by Betsy Graziani Fasbinder | May 31, 2019 | Memoir, Short Stories
When I was in first grade, we moved in the middle of the year from Illinois to Indiana. My dad’s drunken antics had finally offended the manager of the battery plant where he worked. So it was, once again, time for us to relocate so that he would have a new batch of...