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
Author: crowcityblog
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
Banjo Blueberry Crumb Cake
My wife is forever losing her blueberries. They tumble like marbles from the peanut butter slathered bagels that she sprinkles so generously with chia seeds. She’s a healthy one, a vegetarian, my wife. I refer to them, jokingly, as her “birdseed bagels.” She claims not to see them, these runaway blueberries. They “get lost” in … Continue reading Banjo Blueberry Crumb Cake
Inside the Pig Palace
They called the new hires “copper-tops” owing to the color of our hardhats. The government meat inspectors wore red. They wandered around and picked through the bins of meat with a hook. Mostly though, they just sat in the office drinking coffee with the supervisors. I envied the job of the inspectors, but … Continue reading Inside the Pig Palace
Not Your Father’s Post Office
I had a pleasant conversation with a customer, an English professor, about my work at the post office yesterday. He had been encouraging his son, a bit wayward I imagined, to apply for a job as a mailman or “letter carrier” as they call us even though, truth be told, we don’t actually deliver that … Continue reading Not Your Father’s Post Office
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
Homeland Security
I got a text from my wife that there was some drunken homeless person in our alley. She had called the police but they were too busy to send anyone out. I didn't notice the message until I was almost done with my shift. I figured everything was fine. It was one of those … Continue reading Homeland Security
Primatology
I walked down the hallway to my room. As I passed the bathroom, I saw my mother press her wedding ring into my father’s hand. “I can’t take anymore,” she said. “I’ve had enough.” He laughed at her and tried to give it back. I continued to the sanctuary of my bedroom and closed … Continue reading Primatology
What’s in Ohio?
My grandfather is dead now. I never got to know him very well. I suppose I could have made more of an effort but I had my own problems. My mother’s family all lived out East. We never visited them. I think my father feared that if we went out there he would be the … Continue reading What’s in Ohio?
