Terri Paul

​Here's a quick peek at the beginning of CHAPTER 1: JUNE, 1930:

I take a sip of my inky-brown coffee. It’s as bitter as the gaunt man who looks up at me from the front page of the Columbus Citizen. “40,000 Ohioans Out of Work,” says the caption beneath his photograph.

Someone pounds on the kitchen door, probably Jimmy Janowitz from across the alley coming to beg for food. Mr. Janowitz, one of the 40,000, vanished in January, leaving Jimmy and his mother nearly penniless. How I wish I had more to offer than an end piece of challah, all that remains of last night’s dinner, and a brown banana my younger sister Kati forgot to eat yesterday.

“Jimmy,” I say as I fling open the door.

“I am no Jimmy!” Papa growls and tries to push past me.

I step onto the back porch and give him a hard stare. We’re eye-to-eye, since I’m... only a half an inch shorter than he is. I haven’t seen him in almost a month, and he’s much the worse for wear...His ten-year-old stepdaughter Lorrie squeezes his hand. Her skin is gray, and I wonder how long it’s been since she had a decent meal...Read the rest of this chapter in THE ROARING 20s: A Decade of Stories.

Sketch of a flapper from Aunt Sarah's high school scrapbook. I like to think she really posed for it.