Michael Campbell

Before we buttered our first roll, before the glasses were filled, before we had a chance to say grace, my mother set down the platter of turkey and announced: “Everybody—save the neck for Dad.” There was a pause as our eyes connected. It was the only time the six of...

Part II was barely sixteen when I attended my first funeral. It was in honor of my good friend Jimmy, whom I had known for about three weeks. My parents encouraged me to go, but didn't offer to accompany me. So I drove the seven quiet miles to Gibbon, Nebraska...