Way Out West

The Eagle Plucked His Eye — But the Wheels Kept Turning

When I was a little girl and asked Grandma Bright, my dad’s mother, where the Bright’s came from, she said one word: “Kansas.”

I was hoping for a thrilling immigrant experience, like my mother’s— but no, it was the Bright story, an undramatic yawn.

I appreciate my grandmother Ethel now. I’d give anything to sit next to her at the sewing machine or eat one…