Some of the girls in the beer tent wear their hair braided Princess Leia style and some of them look like nymphs on a Led Zeppelin album cover crawling on rocks, or a Maxfield Parrish print lazing by the pool… Read More ›
travel
Some may say I’m wishing my days away
On Saturdays we only play reggae. I set the iPod by genre, select All, and it starts with Augustus Pablo, 1 of 275 songs, and ends with Serge Gainsbourg. It takes all day. When Laurent and his family were here… Read More ›
The world’s a lot bigger the first time
When we got back home to Germany they were building the beer halls outside Stuttgart for the spring beer festival and Eberhard said we would go tomorrow and leave at 2:30 with plans to return by 8 — and I… Read More ›
Not yet remembered
I sometimes wear Eberhard’s Stetson to get Charlotte at school, and stand outside with the other parents waiting for her to appear in the doorway — and when she does and sees me with the hat, she turns pink and walks ahead… Read More ›
Bringing it all back home to Blonde on Blonde
We ate the last of the Tartiflette cold, mom most of it, and fought over the bites with our forks like we were playing a game of hungry hippos gulping down marbles. I got my first sunburn of the season… Read More ›
‘Einmal ist keinmal’
It’s like the Germans are all on some schedule here that we’re not getting. In February, everyone was pruning on the same day, stacking limbs in neat piles to dry and burn. Last week Dawn went to a bonfire where… Read More ›
American tourists broken down outside of Prague
We took the A6 again toward Nürnberg, only a few hours to the Czech border, but after stopping to buy a vignette and reset the navigator we realized the rear brakes were going, making a sound like bone on bone…. Read More ›
Southern State Tapestry
Dawn got back from two weeks in Italy with her mom, I returned from Amsterdam, our French friends came down with two of their kids, more French friends came and left theirs at home — and with Eberhard, Benny, and… Read More ›
Just Like Billy Pilgrim’s Blues, Amsterdam
I came unstuck in time again and reappeared 20 years later pawing the glass on some Argentinian steakhouse window in the Red Light district with a bull’s head in the window convinced I’d been there before. Two days in Amsterdam… Read More ›
What we saw once in the future
When mom wakes and sees Eberhard’s bed lamp is still on she goes downstairs and finds him at the table with a bunch of dead roots, a screwdriver and a bottle of Port that’s half empty or half full, depending… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 