I sit on the patio this Veterans Day 2020. The temperature is not quite so warm as it was yesterday—71 unseasonable degrees then—but it’s dry and the… Read more “A Veteran of Veterans Day”
No. 64
I sit this morning, on the eve of my sixty-fourth birthday, sipping coffee and smoking a cigar, lost in retrospect.
Bringing Truth to Fiction
I knew that The Girl Who Loved Cigars would challenge me beyond anything I’d written previously.
Will She Soar?
Young Marla is haunted by nightmares of being in the womb, terrified by the prospect of having her whole life—everything she’ll ever have and everything she ever will be—taken from her.
Racism Systemic?
I feared one of my nurses, not because she was Black, but because of what she was going to do with that bag of water connected by a hose to a nozzle that looked, to me, as big as a Louisville Slugger.
Literary Worry
I worry. That’s what I do. Usually about what I can’t control. Which is silly. But I learned it from my mother.
COVID-19 and the Lock Down
You think Capitalism is evil. Well, you just got a peek, these last several months under the lock down, of what socialism looks like.
The Girl Who Loved Cigars
“Oh, Marrrla, you’re a virgin. Just like Mother Mary. I so hoped you would be.” Grinning, he added, “I’m so blessed to be your first.” Then, glancing at the crucifix above my headboard, he added, “Thank you, Jesus, for allowing me this teaching moment.”
Grief a Choice
Grief is normal, it’s even healthy—to an extent. There is no treatment for it, no vaccine to prevent it.
The Choices We Make
If life is a series of choices, a variety of paths we take, why does it seem that the universe so often plays favorites, beckoning to the privileged few, “Take this path to fame, fortune, or power, to love and happiness”?
The Glamour of Socialism
Nothing about socialism is good. It’s based on the premise that government can make better decisions for the people than the people can for themselves.
The Waiting is Hell
I pulled up my Outlook calendar on January 2 and was struck by the year: 2020.
“Method” Writing Vs. “Character” Writing
So, I ask, how can a writer write believably without, like a method actor, relying on their own personal experiences?
Why I Write
Today I write for many reasons: I believe words have power.
Memories are Like Butterflies
Memories haunt us at the most inopportune moments.
A Life Unlived
There came a time when I started to look back over my life, perhaps because there are more days behind me than ahead of me.
A Final Parting
I’ve shared rooms with a lot of people over the years, men and woman. The commonality? Once they walk out the door they never return, not to knock, not to crack the door to even sneak a peek.
Protesting a Protest
Dad taught me to honor my country, our flag, our anthem, those who defend us and protect us.
Can You Miss What You Never Had?
I miss the children I never had, seeing others grow through parenting, being called “Dad”, leaving behind a legacy, a part of themselves to live on after they’re gone.
A Sh*t-Hole By Any Other Name Is Still a Sh*t-Hole
“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” Nowhere in that phrase does Lazarus write “only”.
