The following pieces are from an exhibit honoring deFerrari's father after his death.
The audio versions are approximately one minute and thirty seconds.
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Apis
The night my dad died, Ed and I were outside, looking up through the tall and narrow trees, seeing what bit of sky was visible . . .
read more . . . . . . . . listen Apis
The night my dad died, Ed and I were outside, looking up through the tall and narrow trees, seeing what bit of sky was visible . . .
read more . . . . . . . . listen
At the Arcade
will be published in Atticus Review's Walkthough series in the summer of 2023. Read it here.
The Vase
My father is running toward me at the Drive-In-Theater turned Flea Market. He's got something blue in his hands. He looks gleeful as if he's found a deal . . .
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Typewriter
My dad was a typewriter repairman. He was a great mechanic. He could take a machine apart, put it back together, and . . .
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Bottle Rockets
For the last seven years of his life, my father had a friend named Bradley. The back of my parent's property abutted Bradley's lot. When Bradley first moved in . . .
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Hat
I can't listen to Chet Atkin's song I Still Can't Say Goodbye without going to tears. It's a song about missing his dad, and in it, he tries on his dad's hat . . .
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Plate Glass Window
The only birds I could identify as a child were the cardinal and the robin. But I loved the sounds of the names of birds. I thought they were pretty. Nuthatch. Sparrow . . .
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