Banish me to a dark corner, chain me to a keyboard, and I will gladly be a word slave. I'd sit there all day, with only an occasional demand for a coffee break.
I'm a would-be (wanna be) author, middle aged, fairly repressed, but extremely BLESSED with an amazing wife and two brilliant boys.
For several years, I've been haunted by images of the starving, drug addicted, victimized teens of the streets. I write about them a lot.
It goes without saying that a person cannot choose his mother. Without your mom being who she is, you would not exist; yet, I hear of people wishing they could have been born to different parents. It’s a silly prospect, but when I consider some of the dreadful […]
The following is a work of fiction. Frankie used to refer to the Shady Acres as The Short Timers club. Each person there was not far from a game-ending heart attack or stroke. Frankie had developed an uncanny ability to foresee who was on the verge. Or maybe […]
The following is a work of fiction My first kiss with Carla happened at the State Fair. The whole thing looked like something a guy might plan ahead to do, just so he’d have a moving story to tell his kids someday, maybe even his grandkids. “We were […]
Jamaica is a country that likes to repeat herself. I noticed during my short visit that it’s not uncommon for a Jamaican to follow one slow, deliberate statement with a precise duplicate of the same words immediately afterward. Her music repeats. Her dance repeats. Her food and her […]
The following is a work of fiction. I only once saw Frankie emotionally shaken, and it didn’t alter my respect for him; in fact, it reinforced it. We got to talking about a friend of his he’d lost during the war. The guy’s name was Joe Stern, a […]
The following is a work of fiction. The first time I went to church with Carla, I went, of course, because I loved her. I wasn’t used to attending church; my family never went, except maybe at Easter time. I’d been invited in the past; some guy from […]
The following is a work of fiction. Part 1 here Part 2 here World War II History was the first class I circled on my community college enrollment form. While I was growing up, Dad watched countless films on the subject. When I was a kid, it annoyed […]
The following is a work of fiction. Part 1 here “…for there are other passions, deeper passions; you know this. You saw fit to sow them there. Sometimes I wish I was not so aware of their presence–beneath the crude folds of my temporal flesh, beneath even the […]
The following is a work of fiction It was long after the media had stopped glamorizing the daily numbers of wounded or killed in action that my dad suffered the injury that changed his world and mine. He was mentioned briefly in the news, but only on the […]
“File name not found. Command cannot be performed.” he said to me. I’d seen him at the library before, and it was obvious from the first that he had a disability. Today, it was my job to tutor him. Jonathan had an essay to write. We had an […]
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