Like many Catholics, I grew up enthralled by the story of Francis of Assisi, patron saint of animals and the environment. Francis and I both shared a profound love for God’s creatures...
About Stephen H
Visit Stephen Hayes’ blog Chubby Chatterbox for excerpts from Hayes’ memoir The Kid in the Kaleidoscope, a collection of observations about growing up in the Fifties, Sixties and beyond. The Chubby Chatterbox is an unabashedly sentimental journey seen through the eyes of an artist, traveler and world-class screw-up.
Posts by Stephen H:
One day I finally decided to splurge on a new rug to cover the floor of my office. Pottery Barn sold a beauty called “The Franklin Persian-Style.”
Everyone talks about the weather but nobody does anything about it.. Most regions of our country are currently experiencing severe weather and quite a few bloggers are commenting on it.
Most of Britain’s great writers are memorialized in Poet’s Corner in Westminster Abbey, and quite a few are buried there, including Chaucer, Blake, Browning, Dickens, Tennyson and Kipling.
I’m receiving pictures from fellow bloggers showing snow-covered front lawns and backyards, reminding me of the first time I saw snow. Mrs. Chatterbox was an Army…
After cruising through the Panama Canal, we stopped in Cabo San Lucas at the tip of Mexico’s Baja California Penninsula. At the end of the pier was a tired old vessel.
Why were the Russians so interested in my blog? Did the Kremlin think America’s launch codes were secretly embedded in my drivel?
This morning I woke alone in bed. Mrs. Chatterbox got up before dawn and began working on the feast that is the hallmark of this special day.
I was a nerdy kid ( I was an artist, chess player, member of the Latin Club, poet, devotee of ancient civilizations and skilled puppet maker) I also collected stamps.
This is the history of a chair, nothing as important as a throne or relic, but it has been in the Chatterbox household for forty years—our so-called bordello chair.
What do you do if you’re athletic and good-looking, talented enough to catch the public’s attention, and you’re engaged in a scandal serious enough to get…
A curtain was pulled back and figures emerged from darkness in a shaft of light—a half dozen cloaked musicians with medieval instruments.
Shortly after our dangerous train experience in Bara (Here if you missed it) we reached Brindisi and spent the day in the old harbor waiting for a ship to take us to Patras, Greece.
Like most kids growing up, money burned a hole in my pocket. If I found a nickel or dime I’d spend it as quickly as possible, usually on candy bars.
We woke in darkness to discover our train was no longer moving. It was 1976, and Mrs. Chatterbox and I were catching a ship from Brindisi, Italy, to Patras, Greece.