A poem

Publix at Jupiter Bluffs in Jupiter, FL

You have great cakes
And decent prices.
You are on every corner
In my adopted hot state
Of Florida
You give us vaccinations.
And you gave others money
As a rich Republican heiress
For the January 6th D.C. rally turned riot.
Oh, I have mixed feelings about you.
You give and give and take away.
How do you feel about me?
Am I just a human eater to you?

Vaccines at Publix

Jan. 6 Rally Funded by Top Trump Donor, Helped by Alex Jones, Organizers Say

Debbie’s new book, From the Period. To the Colon: Memoir of a Child Writer, is available on Amazon.


Have you ever had a friend on four legs? This story is excerpted from Debbie’s new book, From the Period. To the Colon: Memoir of a Child Writer.

I never had a dog as a child, but I think dogs, as a species, sensed that I needed one. When a strange dog chased me home to our brick-sided duplex in Philadelphia, I ran as fast as I could, slamming the door before he opened his mouth to bite me or lick me or just to snicker; I’ll never know his exact intention. …


Everyone has emerged from their mother, tiny, slippery and crying. But where? How? Here’s my story, excerpted from my new memoir, From the Period. To the Colon: Memoir of a Child Writer.

Remember that scene with Billy Crystal in City Slickers when his mother called him on his birthday to tell him the story of when he was born? He’s amused, disgusted.

All at once he is a baby who wants to be loved and an independent adult too. Can you remember the details of your birth? No, I didn’t think so. I can’t either. But I can remember the…


A poem

My mother treasured her father’s watch.

David Rudnick wore it in the watch pocket of his trousers.

Every day he wound it.

Every day he palmed it.

Time to open the tailor shop? Time for lunch?

Time to close the shop? Time to leave for synagogue?

I never met him.

When he passed away, three months before I was born,

I got his name (in Hebrew: Davida)

And my mom got his watch.

My mother engraved HER initials on the back of his watch.

Helen Rudnick Eisenberg, with the important E in the middle.

She added a neck…


Part of a Series of Travel Stories: Five Truths and Two Lies

New Year’s Day

At 9AM the smell of salt water wafted over our king-sized bed at the Holiday Inn in Pompano Beach, Florida. Fuzzy headed, I remembered the date. January 2, 2000. Yesterday I had watched the University of Michigan beat Alabama in the Florida Orange Bowl in Miami. (Go Blue!)

I dressed quickly in my Speedo bathing suit, baggy nylon shorts, and close fitting long sleeve white shirt, with just my chapstick and my room’s plastic card key in my pockets. No shoes. Hurry. Checkout at 11AM.

I was poised…


Part of a Series of Travel Stories: Five Truths and Two Lies

I step forward in line, now it’s my turn. I feel the cool metal of an AK-47 rifle in my hands and sniff the air: a damp mixture of pine, sulfur, and sweat. A human-shaped target riddled with holes flutters on a tree 100 feet away. It’s just a piece of paper, I tell myself. I place the thick rubber ear muffs, flaked from use, over my ears. The rifle lies waiting for me mounted on a stand; underneath the barrel is a pyramid of thousands of gold-colored…


Part of a Series of Travel Stories: Five Truths and Two Lies

In the summer of 2015, I was rushing to leave Harrods, the fanciest department store in England, maybe anywhere in this universe. I had just walked past a dining table that cost $400,000. Yes $400,000! It had glass artwork embedded in its base.

In my sweaty American fingers I carried a plastic bag that said “Harrods,” in which I had three little treasures that I had picked in the 15 minutes my schedule allowed: first, a little sparkly blue notebook that was the size of my hand and…


Part of a Series of Travel Stories: Five Truths and Two Lies

We checked into the Samurai Palace. They didn’t have a turnaround in front of the hotel. There was just a little awning and a man outside wearing a traditional Japanese doorman outfit. I thought, What’s with the sword? but I figured that was part of the getup. We weren’t in the touristy district — the American touristy district, that is. We were out of the way in a clean one-way street that smelled of lilacs. Small cars that were Fords and Mercedes crammed onto the right side of…


Part of a Series of Travel Stories: Five Truths and Two Lies

There was a place in the village that all the women went to get the water. It was the women, of course: that was their work. They went all times — and always in the mornings because who could trust the water that had been sitting outside last night? Had the cows urinated in it? Had a berry from the pinyon acacia tree fallen in it and lay at the bottom — beneath a leaf, an innocent leaf, to taint, to poison the entire bucket?

The water the…


Part of a Series of Travel Stories: Five Truths and Two Lies

For hours, I felt intensely desired and appreciated, like Madonna just before an encore. There was a deafening roar as thousands of people called out and tried to catch my eye. College boys told me they loved me and threw kisses and sometimes, just sometimes, I threw back beads to them because I had the power…the power of the bead.

Dressed in a red crawfish costume and tossing out beads like manna from heaven from a Krewe of Tucks parade float, I was leading the pack in New…

Debbie Merion

EssayCoaching.com owner, author, and fun-loving female in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Read her latest book, From the Period. To the Colon: Memoir of a Child Writer.

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