The Coburn Street Ghosts: A Memoir

In the summer of 1961, my family moved against our will to a smelly brickpile of a parsonage in Akron, Ohio, where my father became the pastor of a church named for the crucifixion. And when we got there, we found ourselves surrounded by ghosts.

2017-01-11T23:52:16+00:00 January 12th, 2017|

Archie the Talking Snowman

I wasn’t having any of it. My mother brought my older sister and me to Chapel Hill Mall each year to visit with Archie the Talking Snow­man. But I wasn’t fooled. Snowmen don’t talk, and I didn’t trust the disembodied voice that floated from above.

2016-11-11T10:53:18+00:00 October 18th, 2016|

Akron’s Audio Alchemist

On a balmy Friday afternoon, I’m nervously careening through downtown Akron without my GPS, trying to prove I haven’t lost my touch since leaving the “330.”

2016-10-14T10:15:59+00:00 September 22nd, 2016|