Author Archives

Bill Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.

• Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man

  By Bill Pearse on October 14, 2015 • ( 19 )

  

  Mom and I split a tab of chocolate I brought back from Prague and walk the dog down to the fields, the dog like the rest of us gone fat and walking funny, fat from eating bad things and snacking… Read More ›

• Prague 3

  By Bill Pearse on October 13, 2015 • ( 14 )

  

  My left heel hasn’t been right since I tripped down the steps in the Bahnhof on the way to a beer festival a couple weeks ago, the traditional Bavarian Trachten shoes a half-size too big, making it that much harder… Read More ›

• The piper will lead us to reason

  By Bill Pearse on October 7, 2015 • ( 25 )

  

  At the German school, the kids get dismissed for five minutes between every class to go outside and get some fresh air or have a smoke, some of the younger ones play on the climbing bars and hang upside down… Read More ›

• Americans just think they can go anywhere (2)

  By Bill Pearse on October 6, 2015 • ( 6 )

  

  We met Eberhard and drove to the Landratsamt to get our new/used German car registered, by the police station and other government offices where he worked as a cop for 40 years. We took a number and sat, and the… Read More ›

• De do do do, Die, Das, Der, Dem

  By Bill Pearse on October 5, 2015 • ( 16 )

  Six years ago we were leaving Germany about this time following a three month sabbatical, and I was returning to work. It may have been auspicious, I had a blowout on the highway and had to call roadside assistance my first… Read More ›

• Anyone at all

  By Bill Pearse on October 4, 2015 • ( 9 )

  

  When the time comes you have nowhere left to go, go back to sleep and forget about things for sleep is like death and won’t come when it’s called – it’s better to sleep without the weight of dreams and wake… Read More ›

• Uncommon denominators

  By Bill Pearse on October 3, 2015 • ( 8 )

  

  Today we put down a deposit on a used car in a town we couldn’t pronounce that sounded like a slur or spit coming up — Eberhard got right on the used car search with his handy at the Bahnhof… Read More ›

• Who needs Munich when you’ve got the Wasen?

  By Bill Pearse on October 1, 2015 • ( 20 )

  

  For reasons perhaps too private to get into it’s hard peeing in lederhosen, hard undoing the suspenders through the clasps when you’ve been drinking, hard clearing the edge of the leather because they don’t come with flies or barn doors,… Read More ›

• Meet me at the cemetry gates

  By Bill Pearse on September 30, 2015 • ( 26 )

  

  We dropped the kids off for their first day of German school, their first class French — French taught in German — and I walked to the cemetery by the Realschule, where we’ve started our third week of German classes,… Read More ›

• How to love, with fences

  By Bill Pearse on September 29, 2015 • ( 14 )

  

  There are limits to my love as with fences to remind us what’s ours and keep things out, keep things in — Love is a word we use for protection, like all things defined there’s a start, an end, and… Read More ›