Wednesday morning I went fishing in the Mississippi River below the Ford dam. I parked my car at Wabun park and tromped in my waders along Minnehaha Creek to the familiar spot. Along the way I paused to drift my wooly bugger through some promising pools but came up empty. With it being late summer, … Continue reading Treasures of the Mississippi
Memoir
The Bicycle Thief
Minneapolis, MN I’m delivering mail when a raven-haired woman on a bicycle emerges from behind an apartment building. She takes a quick glance behind, almost as if she is being pursued, and starts down the stairs. These are low, gradual stairs that I could go down easily with the wide tires of my mountain bike, … Continue reading The Bicycle Thief
Mercy
Like most people, I tend to be parsimonious with my mercy. Mostly because time is like blood to me. I only have so much. When you are a letter carrier, people try to befriend you. Often they have nowhere to go. They are prisoners of their maladies and handicaps. They pester you as if you … Continue reading Mercy
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
Man on the Moon: an End of Days Soundtrack
“That planet called “normal” is small and blue in the distance, close enough to see but too far away to touch.” Read more from “Man on the Moon” at https://atticusreview.org/man-on-the-moon-an-end-of-days-soundtrack/ https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=dLxpNiF0YKs
Macabre Mailboxes and a Minneapolis Murder Mystery
As a letter carrier, I get paid to walk in circles. It is not such a horrible thing to stroll through the same neighborhood every day, although the job does get dull and the weather is sometimes horrible. Like any walker, I note the banal passage of the seasons. I had forgotten this collection of … Continue reading Macabre Mailboxes and a Minneapolis Murder Mystery
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 with concrete walls, a bunk, a dresser and a desk on each … Continue reading Remembering the Hobo Day Riots of 1990–The Skinny Kid Goes to College
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
A Map of Memory
A map is formed with memory. The places you’ve gone and the things you’ve done. Say a mental image of you fishing with your father when you pass a spot on a lake. Or you might think of your daughter when she was small as you drive by a deserted playground where you, long … Continue reading A Map of Memory
Crow City 