Deborah Paul

Indianapolis Monthly owes its existence to Deborah Paul.

When I read about the opioid crisis, I wonder why my plight goes unreported.

In her later years, my mother hung two dog portraits on her wall, of a Scottie and a Westie. Looking at these one-dimensional creatures was as close to having pets in her home as she could get. Actually, Wire Fox Terriers were her favorites—those cheeks!—but whenever we, her children, suggested she get an actual dog, […]

Now, virulent hate speech and frightening ideology called “alt right” or “white nationalism” are infiltrating the mainstream. Swastikas appear as graffiti, Holocaust deniers court the media, and bomb threats on Jewish community centers are commonplace.

I do not like confrontation and believe men’s brains are better wired for war than women’s. However, I am as guilty as the next guy of perpetrating bad karma.

How is it even remotely possible that a man who heard voices in his head telling him to kill, and visited jihadist chat rooms, was not only permitted to own a 9 mm handgun but was allowed to check it—as well as ammunition—on a plane to Fort Lauderdale?

Ten people, three generations, at a Thanksgiving table. “Look at what we did,” says my husband.

“What the hell
 difference does it make?” says Knight. “So I’m 50.”

“When did the sport coat give way to the sweater?” I asked. “Why did Bobby become Bob?” Questions hardly so nervy as to provoke the explosion that followed.

This puppy love of mine is new. I’ve always been a cat person, eschewing canines for lacking the dignity, elegance, and artful composure of their feline counterparts.

“I still haven’t gotten over the runny fried eggs with which so many chefs today top everything from burgers to broiled kale. Call me dull, but I prefer mine tucked in a warm McMuffin with a side of fries.”

He suddenly vaulted from his desk chair to retrieve his open briefcase, which, he explained later, held a loaded gun. What if he hadn’t? What if our kids had discovered the weapon and thought it a plaything? What if?

Our current house is no mansion, but it’s more than we need.

I am a woman, I like women, and I wish I could support you. But I can’t.

I would have said he wiggled his youngest daughter’s toe to wake her for school, told her to say to cruel children who laughed at her big feet that she had “good under-standing.”