Gary came for dinner and we forgot what day it was but remembered again as we listened to him tell the story of that morning in September he went to work at the New York Times building in Manhattan.
Memoir
You can never quarantine the past
Labor Day came and went, hot easterly winds. The tell-tale crunch of leaves. In mid September we drove to that strange town in the French mountains, Saint-Pierre des Champs. We rented a Eurovan and I was the only one who… Read More ›
Life’s rich pageant
For two weeks I ate the same sandwich from the 5 lb butt I smoked, pulled pork with pickles. Then I started ordering albums off Amazon without keeping track, and every day it was like Christmas as I backfilled my… Read More ›
The last run up the A7
I can remember exactly how it felt, and then it’s gone. The look of the sky when it started to change, how clear the seam between summer and fall that year we spent in Germany. How the winery workers appeared… Read More ›
When the owls cry in the night
The irony is I always wanted to work for a creative agency and now that I do they don’t call themselves that. I had to wash the day off of me. Two weeks working on the same thousand words. Words,… Read More ›
“True Love Waits”
I pointed out the moon to Lily as we drove the 900 to her friend Sabrina’s house and we put on the same Radiohead CD we listened to last time, the sad song at the end, “True Love Waits.” Lily… Read More ›
Twilight gazing
At night the light through our bedroom window is a deep blue and the fan blows by the dog’s bed, and I think most times I don’t realize how good we’ve got it. There’s the skylight with the pole I… Read More ›
Terror twilight
The bobcat in our yard must have disrupted the balance because everyone was talking about it from the crows to the neighbor dogs to the lesser birds and bats. They were all peeping and cheeping and the crows, with that… Read More ›
Shadow plots
I rubbed the heels of my hands in my eyes and tilted my head back. Out here it is just the sound of birds, the neighbors never really out. The sound of a slow-moving jet, a passing car rippling out…. Read More ›
Low relief
Clear, starry nights with no moon, no pollution, and no time I need to get up. The Hawaiian shirt John gave me that’s missing a button right where my gut sticks out, but I wear it anyway. And that one… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 