There were boyhood summers on the Dakota plains when my mother would douse me with DEET and insist, to my acrimonious protest, that I wear long sleeves even if the temperature was a sultry 87. Sometimes, if the mosquitoes were swarming over the porch in the evening, she would forbid me from venturing outside at … Continue reading After the Plague
Memoir
Black Brains
The first person I ever knew with cancer was my grandmother. It killed her when I was about fifteen. Growing up, we drove to Watertown, South Dakota and visited my father's parents once or twice a year for the holidays. My grandfather had been a gunner in the Army Air Corp in World War II. … Continue reading Black Brains
Desolation Row–The Skinny Kid on the Assembly Line
I made it through my freshman year with decent grades and went back to live with my parents over the summer. Without skills or prospects, I decided to take whatever job I could find in the industrial park by the airport. I applied to all the factories that had listings in the want ads. My … Continue reading Desolation Row–The Skinny Kid on the Assembly Line
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
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
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
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?
