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
Month: June 2019
My Father’s Shoes
In my earliest recollection of childhood, I feign sleep in the back seat of a car. Through a veil of eyelashes, I watch motes of dust circulate in a shaft of sunlight like something astral. I remain like that a long time--in wonder of the dust--when I hear my mother tell my father that … Continue reading My Father’s Shoes
Trailer Park
The trailer park was a sprawling place with plenty of vacant spaces for a boy to roam and get lost. One end bordered a huge lot of scrapped construction machinery with a giant mound of tractor tires we used to play on. Sometimes a truck would rumble through the gate and we would run like … Continue reading Trailer Park
