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
Memoir
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
Dollar Bill
For many years, I befriended alcoholic coworkers far older than me. It was only after becoming a father that I realized that I was attempting to patch a hole in my life caused by my estrangement with my own. There was Frankie who drove to work in a Mustang convertible and sang Bob Dylan tunes … Continue reading Dollar Bill
Crow City 