The Sting of Bees by Bernice Friesen
The first time each of us need a wheel(ed) chair, we are too young to remember it.
When I was nineteen, I got Achilles tendonitis for the first time. It lasted months, my doctor telling me, in frustration, just to stop walking and it would get better—whatever you do, don’t do stairs and don’t run; I was obviously a very bad patient, and not following his orders if I wasn’t getting better. MORE>
I am not ashamed, have learned not to be,
of my body, being different in shape and function:
large head and stomach, crooked fingers,
thin arms and legs. More >
Al Reimer grew up in the Steinbach of the 1930s and 40s, a town of industrious folk, mistrustful of books that were not the Bible or expanded evangelistic tracts . . . but as a young boy he swiftly became lost in words, in fictions. For these he had to go no further than his father’s bookshelves.