Author: Frank J. Tassone

She puts her head down and cries, “I’ve let down you teachers. I’m stupid.” I try to console her. She asks, “Can’t you give me a list of vocabulary? So I can understand?” I...

Frankie hugs us tightly. As he lets go, his eyes hold back a hint of tears, the ones that betray the hesitancy we all share. “Ok. Goodbye,” he says. He and his friend Stephan...

Dust falls through my fingers. I reach down and grab another handful. Sage and withered birch are all that break up the ashen plain. There should be light, but too many thunderclouds blot out...

Each year, The Catholic Church celebrates Christ the Good Shepherd. A common Gospel reading for that Sunday Liturgy is the Gospel of John, in which Jesus Christ calls himself “the good Shepherd.” (John 10:...

I don’t remember Grandma’s death. The only flash of memory is a snippet of conversation, and a flash of grief and concern on Mom’s face. My most clear memory of Grandma: she would squeeze...

Frankie and I are home. He’ll soon put on a light-green, button-down collared shirt, a pair of Khakis and dockers. We’ll drop him off at the middle school and take our seats in the...

You and Dad tried to conceive for twelve years before you decided to adopt. You told me that story often enough: how I grabbed your pinky when you visited candidate babies, and you knew...