The man had trouble keeping up with his wife, grimacing as he hobbled behind her. The two boys ran far ahead of the both of them like unleashed puppies. The river flowed dark and cold to their right. It would be frozen soon and this realization made him as bleak in his thoughts as the … Continue reading Homer Saves Springfield
Uncategorized
The Last Third
With November upon us and the skyline a lattice of sticks, I think of The First Third--the posthumously published memoir by Neal Cassady. Cassady was Jack Kerouac’s muse, the Dean Moriarty of his famous novel, On the Road. I read both those books when I was about twenty. Kerouac admired Cassady for his frenetic energy … Continue reading The Last Third
Sons of Liberty
They finally gave us washable cloth masks at work. When I brought one home, my wife commented that it looked like a young girl’s panties. That thought had definitely not occurred to me. Soft, small, white and, yes, cottony. That is, after Emily said it, what they looked like. I couldn’t get … Continue reading Sons of Liberty
A Story With Wings
I just wanted to thank all my readers and extend an invitation to check out my story, "Wasted Meat," which appears in the latest (Nov/Dec 2019) issue of Gray's Sporting Journal which is available now at Barnes and Noble. I knew "Wasted Meat" was a special story when I wrote it, perhaps my best. Success, … Continue reading A Story With Wings
Crows
My brother gave me an album of photographs and important papers that my father left behind. I keep it out of sight in the basement. But sometimes, late at night, when the rest of my family is asleep, I drink too much wine and think about the past. Barrel-chested and powerful, my father sits on … Continue reading Crows
Roswell City Limits
My father died on February 25th, 2012. He was 67 years old. He had made an appointment to see a doctor that day, but the pain got to be too much and he ended up dialing 911. He had a perforated stomach that led to septicemia which is a bacterial infection of the blood. He … Continue reading Roswell City Limits
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
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?
Mouse Trouble
I’ve yet to slaughter any cats, but I once killed a mouse in front of my son with a tennis racket. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt as satisfied in my manhood as at that moment, or so attuned to nature. We can admire the songbirds with our binoculars, but it is worth … Continue reading Mouse Trouble
