Memoirous

Check out my essay, Books as a Signpost of my Life is in the current issue of Superpresent https://superpresentmag.com/current-issue/ As I lay in bed I tried to think back as far as I could, exercising my memory as if it were a flabby muscle. Pictures spindled across the photo album of my brain. I leaned forward and squinted my closed eyes trying to decipher them. Book jackets. Freddy the Pig, Barnyard Detective. Charlotte’s Web. Little House on the Prairie with the Garth Williams’ illustrations. Little Women—I actually saw the chapter illustration where Jo peers into Beth’s trunk and is overcome by grief. WordPress.comWordPress.com | Superpresent Current Issue Click on the image to view online. Click here to download a free PDF Superpresent Issue 4US and Canada – shipping included $21.95   Also, coming next month my essay series in The Account: A Journal of Poetry, Prose, & Thought ANDDDD out soon a piece called A Whole New Recipe in Dove Tales, 10th Annivers...

Ever since I could remember I’ve had a job. The strictures of time bracketing my day. Chunks of hours devoted to being at an office, in a kitchen, on the phone, stuck in meetings. Those things seem so far away in 2020. Even the concept of routine is now distant. For those who have been reading about my bike journey and those who have read my bio know: I get up early. Call it anxiety but I like to get up and get things done, that way the rest of the day can be given over to projects that don’t seem so tangible. Like writing, for instance. Much of writing is about being able to explore, play. What can seem more lazy than just sitting and thinking. Yet that’s what a writer does. They have to be able to think and have the ability to focus. So flipping 300 or so pancakes is the visible and the plotting is the invisible. Both are working, just one gets the most attention. Rightfully so, I mean who doesn’t love a pancake. This summer none of this is taking place. The writing lately ...

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Sooooooo I’m honestly flattened, knocked for a loop. I want to walk the middle of the road so as not to put off readers or get people twisted up. The Cubs, the White Sox, the Bears, the Packers, North and South, and, dare I say their names, Hillary and Trump. We all knew someone was going to lose and someone was going to win. We just all hoped it would be us, the other guy’s pain, not ours. Last night, this campaign will forever go down in history, in collective memory, as a bad nightmare. I have friends on many sides of the aisle. On Facebook I read posts thanking Jesus to others where the F-word showed up, with a few others. I care about all of you. I care about the future, my daughter, the economy (which just crashed), foreign policy. There is a lot that I wish could change. I wish for a do-over. This morning I was tired. Really really tired. A good friend passed away last evening. He enjoyed walks in the park and last night he walked down to a bench, sat down, an...

Here is a re-print of an earlier blog about books as milemarkers for our lives because I was impressed so much by Daniel Kraus's article.     As I lay there in bed I tried to think back as far as I could, exercising my memory as if it were a flabby muscle. Pictures spindled across the photo album of my brain. I leaned forward and squinted my closed eyes trying to decipher them. Book jackets. Freddy the Pig, Barnyard Detective . Charlotte’s Web . Little House on the Prairie with the Garth Williams’ illustrations. Little Women —I actually saw the chapter illustration where Jo peers into Beth’s trunk and is overcome by grief. Piles and piles of Nancy Drew mysteries, and sitting on the back porch two-seat rocker with my legs dangling over the armrest and a glass of sweetened ice tea sweating on a small stand near by. Stories were intertwined with my life story. Books served as the chronological markers of my personal history.      The Newb...