Journey, Aerosmith’s ‘Dream On’: in my forming years of the 70s I latched on to these themes. I watched myself in the mirror, mouthed the words, and dreamed who I could be, with no limits. My kids are at that… Read More ›
Memoir
The Death Card
My friend was a former Navy SEAL officer, and you would never know it. He was proud of his service, but humble, mild-mannered, polite. We worked together in the office. He drove across the country following a breakup with his… Read More ›
Four years ago today
It hit 103 in Seattle and we got on a plane for Germany, for a three month stay. I wrote my first blog post, featuring a picture of my mom and step-dad and him holding a bottle opener I still… Read More ›
The bright, dark sounds of The Red House Painters
The grass is going brown already, but I won’t water it. I hadn’t laid on it yet, on my back with the dog in the sun, afternoon wine, nothing to do, nowhere to be. Like the August we went to… Read More ›
Days of cheap sushi
Dawn and I, walking to the neighborhood sushi restaurant from our rental apartment. The little place on the corner, people cueing on the outside. The kitchen is so small, they must have six in there. Everyone is huddled over their… Read More ›
One life lost, climbing
If you believe we have nine lives, I’ve wasted at least one in the mountains. I’m afraid of scuba diving, bicycling, and nearly hurt myself bad playing Pickleball (a form of tennis). But I’ve climbed a few big mountains by… Read More ›
Beer, blankets and sunsets
That time of year the days outlast us, the sun comes through the trees and into our family room around 9 PM. Saturday night with Cat Stevens, the girls’ dramatic dance interpretations of Peace Train, the irony that my mom… Read More ›
The record you made after you should have stopped making records
Driving across Maryland in the middle of the night, from a state campground back to our flat in Ocean City. The end of the summer, college graduation, months spent standing around with lagers and our guts hanging out, passing pipes,… Read More ›
Scene From A Window Not Seen
Old man with curly hair, thick glasses, Mercedes. We play with the hood ornament on the Mercedes: it bends back, then stands up again. He watches us from the window. Wiffle ball in the courtyard, summer. He calls down to… Read More ›
Bloodshot, Crow’s Feet, Fingernail Moons
I got sick at the campsite. Drew scooped it up with one hand and threw it in the fire before his dog could eat it. It made a hissing sound and sparks, my last memory that night. We tripped out… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 