I had to laugh at the modification to this Covid sign while waiting for the traffic light to change at University Avenue. I also couldn’t help but envy the free time of the puerile prankster. There was a period in my young adulthood, before I fully committed to the working life, when my days seemed … Continue reading Pushing Butt
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A Happy Couple
Each day the trees along the river seem to burst with more color. The drabness of winter is turning to spring. I went fishing today at Hidden Falls Park and didn’t catch a darn thing. Except for this photograph—a mating pair of Canadian geese. I was glad I went. It kept me human. And that’s … Continue reading A Happy Couple
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
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
