Coulda

The happiest day of my life was the day I was the filthiest and the cleanest tired. I woke up jittery on the floor of a Mexican church, and pulled on overalls. All day we nailed two-by-fours and I drank gallons of water without ever having to pee. In the desert, you don’t pee or […]

Fisherman

I almost stole a fish basket. I was fifteen when the family converged on the old farmhouse to divvy up its contents. My great-grandparents had a crackerbox of a house. The story was that someone found the house in a dry creek bed, and hitched it to some horses who pulled it out onto the […]

Before I Get Old

When I was seventeen and attending a Pearl Jam concert, I was concerned that I was uncool because I had never been to Europe or had a boyfriend. Also, my pants were usually wrong, one way or another. At last night’s Pearl Jam show, I was afraid I was uncool because I am old. Thirty-three. How times change.

Where I’m From

*Note: this writing reflects nothing on actual, true-life Schurmans, and their actual “issues,” as I solely lay claim to said “issues,” and all the other Schurmans are wonderful people who have generously tolerated both my serious and my flippant remarks for 33 years. All genealogical information is based on my sloppy and cursory clicking through Ancestry.com. The Schurmans certainly did not come over on the Mayflower– they came from Amsterdam some time later. It is true that many Schurmans remain in Canada, while I am descended from those who returned to America, obviously because they realized how awesome the colonies turned out to be, or (more likely) because they were not laid back enough to make it as Canadians.