When poet/memoirist Rosanne Singer relocates to her native Baltimore from California, her relationship to the city and the people she meets surprises her; her connection to a man who calls himself “Nephew” hits harder.
He introduced himself this way:
I was locked up 34 years for murder. I just got out in February. They call me Nephew.
This was the summer of 2019, shortly after I’d moved with our dog to Charles Village in Baltimore. My husband stayed in California to work, I returned east and now lived in a one-bedroom apartment across the street from my middle sister and her family. She had lobbied for me to live close by and had long forgiven my childhood bullying.