We’re more alike than different. Until we recognize this and act upon it through kindness and understanding, the shitshow will continue. We can’t blame 2020. And it’s not a certain group, team, color, race, sight or sound. It’s you. And it’s me. We aren’t making the best decisions we can. We’re moving along in our … More unicorns, ice cream, and balloons
In two inches of shitty water. Plunging the drain in the basement. Over and over again. Wads of hair. Toilet paper. Band-aids. Pieces of foil. Rubber bands. Bits of unidentifiable things built up over years, even long before we got here. It splashes me. It stinks. But it’s nearly midnight and I’m not losing this … More life doesn’t wait for backed up sewer lines
Early Sunday morning. A car stops on State Street because a flock of geese crosses the road. They are doing what they’ve been doing for millions of years. Moving from Point A to Point B. They’ve experienced disease, drought, famine, and legitimate predators—not the weekend gun-jockeys that pop them off in parks during three-day hunts … More crossing the road
This kid thing isn’t easy. That’s why it’s rewarding. They push and stretch and shape you in ways you could never imagine. It’s all good though. As long as you can keep your guts out of it as necessary, and make logical decisions based on reason, they turn out okay. None of them are perfect. … More raising kids–it’s a crapshoot
The sky threatened for hours. Light, then dark. Light, then dark. Light, then an expanse of dull gray, puffed up and floating above the big lake and our little town. The rain, mostly unpredictable sprinkles, came and went. Came and went. But we welcomed the day, and we were happy. This was yesterday. Our anniversary. … More twelve years into it
(from the opening of Black) We are halfway between the equator and the North Pole. At least that’s what the sign says alongside the road. It is big and green with white block lettering and it is mounted to two eight by eights that are cemented into the ground. Anyone traveling US 23, the single … More The 45th Parallel
Sunday evening. I’m walking with my wife and our dog, Spindle. Six days away from twelve years of marriage. Burning a few calories. Coming down from a busy week. Seeking stress relief. Her from me. Me from all that moves around inside that I don’t know how to explain. And we get into a groove. … More a walk on the north side
“Self-destruction helps, but is rarely prescribed. Sure, I sleep little. Fight to lose the weight. Forget whatever it was I said to or heard from my wife yesterday, the day before, five minutes ago, but it’s cyclical and necessary. My routine for breaking routine.” … More above and below
Up to the city siren and out of bed quickly to survey the situation. As if there’s anything I could do to save us. The fierce wind drives waves of rain. Trees and wires sway. Lawn chairs tumble across the yard. Bird feeders swing wildly on their hooks. A garbage can rolls down the street. … More sunday morning storm
A twelve-year-old girl keeps a sunfish in a bucket for days. One she caught while camping. She feeds it bits of leftover burger. Dried worms from the sidewalk. Poor, stupid moths that bang against her bedroom window. And ants. The sunfish floats. Surrounded by white walls. Under a narrow shaft of light. The big sky … More no hands
