My youngest son splashes in the lake with his mother as I anxiously pan the beach for Miles. At last, I feel a momentary pang of love as I recognize him among the frolicking, half-clad children. He is bent over, digging a hole in the sand with a shovel. Wait. I take a step closer … Continue reading Hoop Medicine
Fatherhood
Trash Fishing
We celebrated my 49th birthday by dining at Al’s Breakfast in the Dinkytown neighborhood of Minneapolis. My wife and kids feasted on pancakes while I enjoyed bacon and eggs with what might have been the most scrumptious wheat toast I’ve ever consumed. Amazingly, this hole-in-the-wall establishment has been in business since 1950. It has no … Continue reading Trash Fishing
Riprap Sushi
The Big Sioux River is stained darker than my morning coffee from all the silt and manure that’s washed off the farmland upstream. I’m fishing below the spillway after leaving my sons to play at their cousin’s house. I caught a couple good walleyes at this spot years ago--that other lifetime before I was married. … Continue reading Riprap Sushi
Waiting for the Sun
The stasis of family life can sometimes seem unbearable. We make origami shapes of our hearts, folding ourselves smaller and smaller to not offend the other. It’s a sad spectacle for the kids to watch, even if they half understand it. “Is Covid worse than cancer?” “I’ve been thinking a lot about that,” she says. … Continue reading Waiting for the Sun
Cawing into the Abyss
Crows assemble at this U of M tower like children around a birthday cake, hoping for the killing to begin so they can have lunch. You are fools they say, everyone is black until you pick our feathers. Each December they fill the sky along the river in flocks too numerous to count. Such gatherings … Continue reading Cawing into the Abyss
Down by the River
When I got home from work, the boy told me he wanted to go fishing. I paused before answering out of weariness. What I really needed was a cold beer and a hot shower. “Let your dad rest and get settled,” my wife said in support. “I’ll never say no to that,” I said. “We … Continue reading Down by the River
Graffiti Bridge
I decided to put the words and the worries aside and just take some pictures. The suburbanites hurtling over us in their cars had no idea about the art and the wonder below. I could leave the city, put myself deeper in debt and find a nice spot by some lake. I might catch bigger … Continue reading Graffiti Bridge
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
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
