Memoir – THE QUALITY OF MERCY

2026-02-252026-02-25 by Andrea Carney

Cleaning for Darlene

When I was 16, my family moved to Sylmar. Darlene, a neighbor, noticed my sister Elaine and me in our front yard. She walked down the street and asked, “Do you babysit?” I said yes. She had three girls.

I told another neighbor, Susie, about the babysitting job. Her sister Marian came out and said, “Don’t babysit her kids; she’s got a retarded child.” I said, “I don’t care. I’m up for challenges.” Darlene was desperate for help; she was a waitress. Overworked and underpaid. Neither Darlene nor her husband Hal accepted their youngest girl, Anna, nine months old and so she was neglected for some reason. They left her in bed with bottle propped up and let her poop her pants and spread it around. Anna had a habit of staring straight into your eyes, unnervingly.

2022-11-272026-02-05 by David Hughes

Deaths

It’s been three months since I’ve posted here. My wife Andrea Carney and I have separated; she’s in Minnesota near her son Alex and his family while I remain in Denver, moving next month from Central Park to the neighborhood named after Sloan’s Lake, the city’s largest body of water, at its western border. Like many places here, its working-class roots show while the peroxide of gentrification blandly bleaches.¹ Gentrification can be seen as rejuvenation, giving youth to the old. But it’s a kind of death.

2021-10-142026-02-05 by David Hughes

My Old Kentucky Home: Edgar, Willis and Green

Years ago I was told by my parents that I had a Wobbly in my lineage on my father’s side. I asked them to write down what they remembered about him but never followed up. Until recently.

2020-01-022025-08-04 by Andrea Carney

And He Never Left!

In a comment to my post The Stranger Alongside Me in September our friend Milania remarked on my being a rescuer. In reply my husband David Hughes said, “I guess you could say she rescued me forty-four years ago this month! We’ll have to have Andrea tell that tale some day.” Milania urged me to do so “sooner rather than later.” Okay, but I should say that “rescue” sounds more dramatic that it really was, although David and I agreed that this story could get a little bit personal.

2019-11-142025-08-05 by David Hughes

Falling Awake: Joseph Shuldiner (1957–2019)

Yesterday my friend and collaborator Rob Berg messaged me that my old, dear friend Joseph Shuldiner died. Of a brain tumor. It’s a cruel joke: I’m the one bingeing on cheddar cheese, and last week I was told to go on statins.

My heart goes out to his spouse Bruce Schwartz, his sister Judy, and to all he’s touched.

Joseph and I go a long way back, but hadn’t corresponded for several years. Looking for a photograph last night I came upon a half-dozen file folders containing the following mementos.