Tamara MC

MC sits on a hard chair shaking her head.
It is pre-summer 2013 and MC's big breasts fall out of MC's flowered razorback bra.
MC's black thong swings up from MC's black yoga pants.
It is 11:06 am and horns are honking on the avenue.
Later, when MC will be eating cornbread casserole with the boy,
MC will put on a white blousy dress.
When the boy and MC sleep, the room's windows will frost over.
The boy will shiver. MC flashes heat, but MC CANNOT be old enough to have hot flashes.
MC waits for ...

His Murphy bed dropped from the wall in that Arizona studio apartment.
While he watched Miami Vice.
Ed wash the teacups, wipe counters. clear away his MIS textbooks.
Bight PM sharp:
catching glimpses of Don Johnson’s world between dishes and dusting.
Espadrilles with no socks. silk t-shirts.
Bangladesh to AZ
filtered through pink and palm trees on his twelve-inch TV.
The silver gray jacket hung
beside my coral blazer in our closet later, through marriage, mortgage, children.
until the hangers...

I am the only one alone on this train,
watching families cluster, friends laugh.
Mile Post Seventy-Two slides past the window,
avalanche protection standing guard.
Morning haze from last night’s forest fire
scents the air like distant campfires.
I missed the bus downtown yesterday—
another small journey undertaken alone.
It seems like old times:
everyone else, and me.
Not lonely, not ecstatic, just present in the space between.
The inland arms of Alaska stretch
like reaching hands I cannot gr...

On this the eve of Lag B’Omer, the holiday of fire on our Jewish calendar, we at Judith offer you an entire folio of poems that deal with the heat, the flame, the many passions of fire.
Lag B’Omer, as anyone who has lived in Israel knows, is that holiday when your eight-year-old comes into the kitchen, puts some potatoes in a bag and informs you that they will be out all night. “See you tomorrow, Mom!” I’m not sure it will be legal this year, but in the past its a holiday when bonfires burn a...

BY TAMARA MC
Joy radiates through my entire body like electricity. Sparks travel from my core to my fingertips in waves of pure, unfiltered delight. This isn't occasional happiness or momentary pleasure — it's a neurological symphony that plays in my brain, filling my world with color, light, and sensation that gleams and glitters in ways others might never experience. As a woman diagnosed with autism in my late 40s,
I've come to recognize that my naturally joyful disposition challenges socie...

A few words by the author: Brill’s Hidden in Plain Sight is not a conventional Holocaust memoir; rather, it is an act of literary cartography – mapping the landscapes of exile, inherited trauma, and historical erasure. She takes readers on a journey through Belgrade, where her family’s history is embedded in its streets and architecture, and where memory itself is both visible and hidden in the spaces between past and present.
In an age where Holocaust literature has become its own firmly est...

He woke me at four
We shared Ramadan's first meal
Texas stars watched close

James laced a telephone cord around his mother’s neck and pulled until he asphyxiated her.
I knew James since first grade. In fourth grade, he sat behind me in Ms. L’s class. He kicked my chair throughout the school year. My head bounced back and forth like a rag doll.
One day, before lunch, James was desperate to get my attention. “Tamara! Tamara!” I ignored him as always, and then he pleaded more. “Please! Turn just this once.” I couldn’t concentrate and thought if I swerved, he’d stop kick...

When I was 21, I discovered Chautauqua Institution during a summer stay in a family cottage belonging to my sister’s boyfriend’s mother. My sister and I lived as residents in the charming summer home in upstate New York, part of the tradition where properties pass through families.
We were in that beautiful in-between period of life—having left our family home but before marriages and children, when the world felt full of possibility and uncertainty. While the prestigious lectures and perform...

Bubbe wrapped me in a towel, baked in the Arizona sun, draping herself in the same green-ratted robe she’d worn since my first memory. Worried I’d catch a cold, she jogged us home from the pool, sprinting upstairs to draw me a warm bath. “Get in, Mara, rolling her r’s, her accent dripping in Yiddish. Soaking in the healing water, I anticipated the cut-up Red Delicious she always had waiting for me. Bubbe checked on me every few minutes, anxious I’d vanish like the rest of Holocaust. our famil...

I cherished watching I Love Lucy with my Bubbe, lying side by side on her shag carpet as matzoh ball soup lingered in the air. Those evenings with Lucy’s polka dots and my grandmother’s love have stayed with me always. And why I wanted to experience “I love Lucy” at the Chautauqua Harbor Hotel in Lucy’s hometown.
From the moment you step into the Chautauqua Harbor Hotel on the shores of Celoron, NY, you’re in for a lakeside escape filled with laughter, nostalgia, and stunning views. Visit ico...

Are you the kind of traveler who needs frequent rest stops? Then read one woman's story of how she copes (and gets her buddies on the road to understand the situation).
As I boarded my flight to El Paso, anticipating a group tour to Big Bend National Park, I couldn’t help but worry about the long van rides ahead. Big Bend, one of the least visited and most remote national parks in the United States, promised stunning vistas and unique experiences. However, for someone like me with a small bla...

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In the heart of Southeast Texas, Beaumont surprises visitors with its rich culinary landscape. Located about 90 miles east of Houston and just 30 miles from the Louisiana border, this city offers a unique blend of small-town hospitality and big-city flavors. Known for its oil industry heritage, Beaumont has evolved into a destination that tantalizes taste buds with an array of dining options reflecting its diverse cultural influences.
As you explore Beaumont’s culinary scen...

Last Updated on October 29, 2024
Pumpkins have always been my favorite part of fall. Though I grew up in Arizona, these cheerful orange harbingers of autumn helped inspire my own fall traditions. My love for pumpkins runs so deep that I once owned a Prius in bright pumpkin orange. So, when I visited Southern Tier Brewing Company near Chautauqua Lake in western New York this early September, it was my love of all things pumpkin—not beer—that drew me in.
Although I’m not a beer drinker—in fact,...

Last Updated on October 24, 2024
Nestled on the western shore of Owasco Lake in Auburn, NY, part of the picturesque Finger Lakes region, Springside Inn stands as a testament to the area’s history and natural beauty. Under the stewardship of innkeepers Sean and Beth Lattimore, along with their children Sydney and Sean Jr., this charming retreat offers visitors a unique blend of historical significance and modern hospitality.
My journey to Springside Inn began at Syracuse Hancock International ...