Out of bed and down the stairs to open the old wooden door and take a breath of morning. It is cold. Twenty-nine degrees. Tiny white flakes drift and spiral in the air. It is Spring in Alpena, Michigan. Our neighborhood is silent, except for our American flag. A heavy-duty, hand-stitched beauty that’s got a … More thirty-five degrees
Grinding coffee on the porch as the dog does her business. I don’t want to stir my wife or kids. They need sleep. The wood underfoot is so cold my feet burn. But it feels good to be outside on another Alpena April morning. And now, inside, I sip warm liquid and get to work, … More Alpena April Morning
Chickadees, Blue Jays, and Robins are at it. Singing and fighting. Because it is Spring. Earthworms slide across wet sidewalks. Black and gray squirrels leap from powerlines to branches and dance across streets. Most of them make it, but some don’t. We pass these little bodies each day without a second thought. My kids … More making bacon during COVID-19
(this story first appeared in Vol 28.1 of December Magazine) First the snow. Three heavy hours. We run in it. Play. Build snowmen. Snowball fight. Fall onto our backs, move our legs and arms back and forth until we turn into angels. Then the heat. Within an hour the snow is gone. We are down … More our last day
We were five weeks into it. My trips on weekends to visit. S.B. was living on Stieber Street. Doing her best. Trying to teach art to kids that didn’t get regular meals, words of encouragement, or hugs. She was raising a two-year-old. By herself. In a neighborhood that was just a step above questionable. The … More to S.B. on her birthday
I’ve made it home, and I’m coming to. In my bed. Fully clothed. On top of the covers. Someone’s coming up the stairs. Slowly. Deliberately trying to be quiet. But the old staircase is creaking and popping, giving them away, mapping their ascent to my room. I try sitting up, but I’m hung-over and still … More in the moonlight
Raising kids is not fun. Sure, there are fun moments. There are times when you are amazed. In awe. In love. When it’s like this, it’s the purest form of love that there is. But it’s not like that often. This is probably my fault. I have high expectations. At 14 years old, even at … More raising kids…it ain’t easy
My boy. Fourteen today. 1 4. One. Four. Goddamn. He’s a good spirit. Has good intentions. Is not meant to be bound by the rules. I know this. And yet, I expect him to meet expectations that I know are bullshit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What’s a forty-six year-old, chubby hubby and daddy to do when … More a work in progress
In the kitchen. Taxes on my mind. Knowing I need to get them done because if done right, we’ll get money back. We need this money to live this life we’re living. I understand that the sum of your belongings means nothing. But once you accumulate and have, you expect. It’s ridiculousness at its best. … More the pit
January 14th, 2020 9:56 pm Thinking about stupid shit. Like buying a new computer. The price of XRP. Why I feel guilty all the time—about wanting to drink wine, eat chocolate and meat—and how even though I’ve lost over 50 pounds in a year, I still am not happy with my body. In the meantime, … More Johnnie
