Remembering the Hobo Day Riots of 1990–The Skinny Kid Goes to College

  I remember the day my father dropped me off at college.  I was eighteen years old.  I gazed into the mirror after he had gone and said aloud to my reflection, “You’re never going to make it here.”  The room was spartan--concrete walls, a bunk, a dresser and a desk on each side with … Continue reading Remembering the Hobo Day Riots of 1990–The Skinny Kid Goes to College

Birdhouse

  A storm passed overnight and the strong winds blew down the birdhouse that Miles and I had constructed over the winter from some old boards in the basement. I've never been much of a carpenter.  The boy stood beside me as I lifted the quaint, but shoddy, peak-roofed box from the ground.  I had … Continue reading Birdhouse