On Timespace by Stevie Nicks by Karen Hopper Usher
I’d been lying about liking Stevie Nicks.
I was nine or ten when my dad bought his first CD player.
I remember my bewilderment that he’d bought it at all—I’d figured he’d wait a few more years, as he’d made clear to me that the evolution from records to eight-tracks to cassettes to CDs was clearly a scam “they” weren’t done pulling.
But there was a woman involved, I think. Either my now-stepmother or the girlfriend who came before, I don’t remember now.
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About the Author:
Karen Hopper Usher is a reporter in Northern Michigan. She is shocked she finished writing this piece because her puppy, who often curls up between her legs while she writes, cruelly put herself to bed at a decent hour. Karen can’t work like this. She requires the moral support of additional, night-owl puppies.