Happiness. It's relative.
My brother had our parents’ stuff laid out like a well-organized garage sale with no price tags. Relatives were picking up and putting down my mother’s costume jewelry which was arranged in rows on the basement ping pong table. I found a locket that… Continue Reading “The White Binder”
I woke up in the night, found a pencil and wrote the words “I miss my mother’s things” on a receipt stuck in a book on my bedside table. What set me off was reading about one of General Custer’s subordinates, described as looking… Continue Reading “Where is Your Fine Hat?”
I’m glad Sting didn’t have a chance to talk to my dad before he died. He would have really queered my deal. Sting announced today that he wouldn’t be leaving his $300 million to his six children but intended to spend it instead; he… Continue Reading “#17/100: Easing the Sting”
My brother had our parents’ stuff laid out like a well-organized garage sale with no price tags. Relatives were picking up and putting down my mother’s costume jewelry which was arranged in rows on the basement ping pong table. I found a locket that… Continue Reading “The White Binder”
I’m a person who likes the same places. I envy people who are curious and travel to strange places and I aspire to be like them. But left alone, I would go where I always go. And it would be here. On the Lake… Continue Reading “Where Is Your Luck?”
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