The Men in the Crummy probably wouldn’t have agreed with Noam Chomsky, though for reasons Noam might have trouble appreciating. I think about them whenever I read one of Noam’s essays about mankind destroying the planet, how...Read More
An unseasonably warm New Year’s Day, 1972. I regret wearing my flannel plaid shirt with my plastic imitation-leather jacket over top. Michael, too, is excessively dressed for a walk through the woods. Chester County,...Read More
Rain water spewed from the tires of the eighteen wheelers. Flashing orange signs alternated between “Hands on Wheel” and “Eyes on Road.” The southbound lanes of I-65 slowed to a crawl, the result of a mini-van hydroplaning...Read More
The first time I ever held a girl in my arms was at Jimmy Walker’s fifteenth birthday party. The song was Santana’s “Samba Pa Ti,” from Abraxes (side two, track three), and the girl was Margaret Hagerty, who had transferred that...Read More
This piece of writing started out as a story, at least that’s the way I initially thought about it. The story would be about three people – a couple and a widow – who share a table in an independent living...Read More
“In 1732, George Washington made no entry in his diary for three days after having partaken of the punch served at the hunting and fishing club known as The Fish House.” I glanced up from The Thirteen Colonies Cookbook, and...Read More
I believe in being proactive when it comes to health care. I schedule my annual mammogram on time, make sure I have a colonoscopy every few years, submit myself to the dermatologist’s scrutiny as he scans my body every six...Read More
I drove to my parents’ house forty miles south on a rainy November day. My mother’s call prompted the trip—one I had anticipated. She said she didn’t think it would be long until my father died. Essentially, if you want to say...Read More
This sunny day not enough seeming transparent flimsy as a paper kite, it’s a pretense, a hoax; the sun’s a bright enough joke to poke through its evanescent scenery. Only one child under the bright sun plays alone in...Read More
Twenty miles outside of Eugene, I saw a hitchhiker standing on the side of the McKenzie Highway. He was wearing a faded army field jacket, and he had a small red daypack slung over one shoulder. He looked about as okay as...Read More
As I drove north along the Hudson River, I reveled in the cool morning air. It would be a beautiful St. Patrick’s Day; a perfect day for my concert at the retirement home, followed by an afternoon appearance on a local tv...Read More
The last thing I said to him before he died was, “I love you.” He has always been and will always be the biggest part of my heart. God, he was beautiful when he was born with his down like hair covering his face and...Read More
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