“My father tells his stories. I’ve heard them before. I know his pauses. His inflections. But I let him tell them over again. Someday, I think, I’ll be happy I did.” — Kenny Porpora Copy Share Image
“I remember watching those balloons as a little boy, each fall, wondering if someday I, too, would be nothing but a balloon in the… — Kenny Porpora Copy Share Image
“As she looks through the photos, she says quietly, “We had a lot of happy times together. I hope you remember some of them.”… — Kenny Porpora Copy Share Image
“We met in a school elevator, and he could tell from the way I spoke that we had some sadness in common.” — Kenny Porpora Copy Share Image
“It’s not even 8:00 a.m., and I’ve already had my trombone stolen. I fucking hate seventh grade.” — Kenny Porpora Copy Share Image
“He seems sad, and it occurs to me that we have a certain kind of loneliness in common.” — Kenny Porpora Copy Share Image
“She’s been talking nonstop since five a.m.,” my brother says. “Like, I’m not exaggerating—nonstop. I even timed her at one point.” — Kenny Porpora Copy Share Image
“His adopted dad is white and Jewish, giving him full access to black jokes, white jokes, and Jewish jokes. “You’re so lucky,” I say.… — Kenny Porpora Copy Share Image
“I ask for tons of notebooks for my birthday, the ones with college ruled lines, and I carry them with me, pretend they're my… — Kenny Porpora Copy Share Image
“She asks to see my diploma, holds it in her hands and smiles, reads it out loud before handing it back to me, and… — Kenny Porpora Copy Share Image
“For a long time, I felt like I was destined to inherit a certain kind of life and so I wouldn’t let myself think… — Kenny Porpora Copy Share Image
“I look around. Everybody else is wearing boxer shorts. Everybody. Checkered ones and striped ones and cool skater brands like Joe Boxer and Volcom.… — Kenny Porpora Copy Share Image
“And the dreams I’ve kept for so long to myself, the ones I lose myself in when I work my new job—the day shift… — Kenny Porpora Copy Share Image
