Prudence Mackintosh is one of a circle of writers closely associated with Texas Monthly. A contributing editor from the magazine’s inception, in 1973, Prudence’s work has continued to appear in its pages for four decades. She gained a loyal following through the years with her observations on social rites of passage for Texas women and her essays on the rearing of three boys. In 1976 she received a Penney-Missouri Award for excellence in lifestyle journalism. Her work has appeared in several national magazines and is frequently anthologized in college writing texts. She is the author of four books: Thundering Sneakers, Retreads, Sneaking Out, and Just As We Were. She co-authored Great American Suburbs: The Homes of the Park Cities. Born in Texarkana, Prudence grew up in the newspaper office of the Texarkana Gazette & Daily News, where her father was the editor and her mother, a reporter, proofreader, and women’s editor. Her older brother became a television journalist. She attended Texarkana public schools and graduated from the University of Texas in 1966. Prudence continues to live in Dallas with her attorney husband. Their three grown sons now live in New York, Los Angeles, and Austin. Each spring semester she and her husband decamp to Austin, where she teaches a nonfiction writing class for Liberal Arts Honors students at UT. She continues to write for Texas Monthly sporadically as a writer-at-large.
After thirty years, I still love Highland Park.
Why has it taken so long for my sons to get married? Is it the wet towels mildewing on their apartment floors? The pocket change accumulating on every flat surface? Or is it that I’ve given them a skewed idea of what women expect?
My father was a hard-hitting newspaperman, but he was also an old softy. That helps explain why until his death two years ago this month, he and I were members of a mutual admiration society.
“She taught us, she fed us, she entertained us, and best of all, she wrote down the how-to of Corbitt hospitality in five cookbooks, giving us confidence that the civilizing pleasures of the table were within our reach.”
Now that my son is behind the wheel, I can’t decide whether it’s better to ride shotgun or steer clear of him completely.
What do the city of Lubbock, a defunct restaurant, and a submerged neighborhood have in common? They’re all places in somebody’s heart.
Once kids did their own homework. Now ambitious parents do it for them.
Maybe the mayhem generated by a trio of battling boys is just their idea of brotherly love.
Is it any surprise that a toddler who goes to sleep clutching a screwdriver instead of a teddy bear grows into a fourteen-year-old with a passion for motorcycles?