My stories are ones that will echo your own memories—all the more if you were raised in a milltown in Rhode Island. If you weren’t one of those fortunate ones (I say with a wink), perhaps my stories will reflect your experiences of being raised in the 40’s through early 60’s. This past Saturday,…
“Ouch!” I’d hear as the needle hit their finger. It was the only human sound I heard from that section of the Oresman Bros. Christmas Factory, muffled as it was by the whirr of sewing machines. The sewer stopped, bandaged up, and went on. There was no more focused individuals in the mill than the…
I’m product of the mill As they are of me— We’re interwoven, Like cotton, wool, and lace Spun by young women Standing at looms Long hours, Regardless of their time of the month …migraines… Or unrelenting pregnancies…. They’re ancestral sisters Who believed themselves ‘ lucky’ To tend machines That produced such fine material For…
