The Friend That Got Away
March 2018
The university called Katherine and me “Nontraditional Students,” and the administrations’ situating us on the same dead-end street turned out to be brilliant social planning. We were three single mothers, a graduate student’s family, and a couple of untenured professors’ families.
A Personal History of Dogs
March 1, 2018
When I was two I’d dress our black puppy in my doll’s yellow dress, tuck him into the doll carriage, and sing “Rock-a-bye Baby” as I pushed him up and down our long covered porch. At the end of our driveway, trucks rumbled and whooshed by on Route 5, but I’d never met a real truck driver until one appeared, all blurry on our steps, holding something in his arms. He knocked on the door and scolded my mother, “So close to a highway; you have to tie a dog up.”
Bad Memorial Day
July 13, 2018
Nominated for a 2018 Pushcart Prize
We hate it when Sylvia acts crazy. But we hate it more when our mothers do. So, guess what they’re doing back at the house? The guys are gone because our mothers probably picked a fight with them, and now our mothers are lying on blankets in the backyard, drinking wine straight out of the bottles, which we are never allowed to do with milk. They’re sitting up and falling down, giggling like they’re being tickled. But they’re not.
Meanness
January 14, 2018
Chosen for inclusion in Best of Brevity, an anthology
Nominated for 2018 Best American Essays
I sat on the metal milk box on the back porch, the towels and sheets flapping on the clothesline as my mother screamed in the house, If I hear that goddamned, son-of-a-bitching door slam one more time, I’ll murder you.
Confessions of a Serial Memoirist
October 21, 2013
I was born to be a serial memoirist: compulsive, self-absorbed, narcissistic, bossy and a know-it-all. I not only gaze at my navel; I gaze at my reflection, about a thousand times a day. I was the girl sitting in front of the mirror in high school, telling my own true stories to myself. Even back then, I believed I could help others by sharing my experiences.
Rape Myths
I was raped at 55. Here is how I responded.
July 29, 2013
Even if the man who raped me had not held a knife and I’d heard nothing of his other attacks, I’m 99.9 percent sure I wouldn’t have fought. I have never been in a physical fight in my life, have no training in martial arts, and do not consider myself strong enough to ward off any man.
Attacked By Evil, Healed By God
March 18, 2013
Six years ago, my faith was still fairly new to me, so when my heart flat-lined to zero, my days felt like a slog through mud, and God faded like fabric in the sun, I’d no idea that I might be enduring what St. John of the Cross called a Dark Night of the Soul. When an opportunity arose to visit a monastery for a few days, it felt like the hand of God; nuns observing ancient practices in a speeding world lit a fire in me to join them.
Interviews
Beverly Donofrio – The Cagibi Express Interview
“I love to get lost and find my way back, not knowing where you are or exactly where you’re going can be a little scary, which heightens all your senses and intensifies the experience.”
The Astonishing Beverly Donofrio
June 1, 2014
If you like your conversion stories salty with a dash of hot sauce, Donofrio is for you. If you don’t like conversion stories at all, she may still be for you. Armed with a healthy disdain for dogmatic rigidity, Donofrio gives great phrase, doesn’t stint on unflattering truths, and is funny as hell.
Interview: Beverly Donofrio, memoirist/essayist
Amye: If you could give upcoming memoirists one piece of advice, what would it be?
Bev: The same advice I’d give to any prose writer: do yoga, elasticize your body to save it from the ravages of sitting on your ass, neck craned, wrists angled, fingers moving repetitively—for a good percentage of your waking life. And I’d tell them, take notes, and avoid whining at all costs. And: simplify your life, because writing requires focus, and it pays chicken feed.
Reviews
Astonished: A Story of Evil, Blessings, Grace, and Solace
Once Donofrio was Looking for Mary, only to find the grace of the blessed mother inside herself, a thousand miles from home. Once she was looking for forgiveness. Once she was collecting statues and falling in love with Our Lady of Guadalupe over and over again. Once she was lapsed Catholic, a disillusioned woman who climbed her way into the light of the goodness of God.
Audio/Video
High School Moms
Story Corps Sound Portraits
About a year after Beverly Donofrio’s memoir, Riding in Cars with Boys, was published, she received a call from Joanne Savio from the Educational Program for Pregnant and Parenting Adolescents — EPPPA for short. Donofrio’s memoir was about growing up as a teen mother on welfare and putting herself through college. Savio had read it and implored Donofrio to visit the unique high school. “We got nothing but pregnant and parenting girls here,” she said. “They’re real pissers. I’ve read to them from your book. They’re going love you. You’re a success story. You got to say yes.”
Looking for Mary
Story Corps Sound Portraits
Prompted by the enormous increase in sightings of the Virgin Mary in every region of the United States, Looking for Mary is reported by Beverly Donofrio, who, like many Catholics, regards Mary as a central figure in her spiritual life. But like many Americans, Donofrio has long been fascinated by — and skeptical of — people who claim they are speaking to Mary.
Roadtrip Nation Video Interview
“I’d write my first paper, and the teacher asked if he could talk with me afterwards and he said “I think you’d really benefit from remedial English…”