Category Archives: About a boy

16

In the end, this is a kind of Mother’s Day story. But it starts this way: When he was 16-going-on-17 my friend David, the atheist, ornithologist, environmentalist, and retired Fedex pilot, hitch-hiked from his Hudson River home to the Gaspé, where he spent the first of many summers watching birds. It was 1956, year of…

Silver dust

Among our dead, returned ashes-to-ashes back to the earth, are family, friends, neighbors, four dogs, and a silver-coated cat who was blessed with canine disposition. The cat was a gift, delivered by silver Cadillac one summer afternoon, the last summer our checks came preprinted with 19___, when my tug-of-war between West and South hadn’t yet…

A few things: November 2017

An actual family dinner conversation: SON:  [to MOM] “So, why’d you move all that stuff and mess up the big room?” MOM: “I need more space for my art and sewing and things. Maybe I’ll have people over, teach a class; who knows? I might even teach you to sew, so you can sew a…

The way we were.

It’s thankfulness season, time for the annual spilling of gratitude that began mid-month and will end when a wave of resolutions takes over, as if gratitude must be bound by beginning and end points. I don’t mean to sound cynical. Certainly I have many things to be thankful for. Among my many blessings – beyond…

Sex, death, and middle age.

“I know you said you don’t want any of this, but I think you’ll actually want one thing,” he said, dropping some folded papers on the kitchen table.

It was a letter, five pages in long-hand, from my mother to my father, a few months before they married. When we had gathered the belongings from my mother’s garage years ago, the letter must have slipped from a box into an adjacent pile.

Solstice.

Now here we are at summer’s sun-stand, the long solstice (in the northern hemisphere, anyway) of June, fruit of a cycle born six months ago at the onset of winter. It’s still an anything-can-happen era with a why-the-hell-not vibe. It’s the time to ask, again: If not now, then when?

The comfort of familiar things.

I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo. If we know each other, in real life, then this revelation may be shocking. If we know each other very well, though, then it’s possibly not unexpected. I have been thinking about it, a tattoo, though not terribly seriously, for longer than I’ll admit, even here. Tattoos, like…

Goodnight, bookstore.

I met Martha Stewart there, though not in person of course. Her rosy cheeks shone at me from the display table by the east-facing door. I don’t remember what year it was, only that it was the season between Thanksgiving and Christmas, and that I was with my mother, and that I was in my…