New York & Toronto: journal 1

Tuesday August 22 When my brother the doctor is not on call, he decompresses by setting his smart phone to airplane mode. I am on airplane mode at this moment, serene at 39,000 feet viewing the fruited plain from a 737, untethered from the constancy of digital connection and liberated from the tyranny of the lightning rod phone collecting emails, instagrams, texts, and breaking blurbs from the The Huffington Post about what Donald just tweeted to a bifurcated nation. I am on my way to Philly via Southwest Airlines where Karen will pick me up and we’ll get a hoagie … Continue reading New York & Toronto: journal 1

Pretty Good Romantic Quotes

Last night, Karen and I snuggled up on the sofa with a soft throw and a cat named Boo while watching a Hallmark movie, “I do, I do, I do,” a plagiarized revisiting of the movie, “Ground Hog Day.” Here’s the plot. An architect heads to the altar with her fiancé, unsure of her marriage and their future.  She relives her disastrous wedding day, put together by her fiance’s overbearing mother, over and over until, with the help of her fiancé’s brother, she begins to face her biggest fears and discover what she really wants in herself and in her … Continue reading Pretty Good Romantic Quotes

A Thousand Pines

He can tell a story better than Mark Twain on a riverboat drinking whiskey in the moonlight, although the surreal and the absurd are difficult to distinguish from reality. I hang near him at family gatherings, because I’m a writer and he gives me stuff you can’t make up. And like Seinfeld’s blonde girlfriend who can get away with anything because she is beautiful, Tom gets away with things because he is funny. Although sometimes the story takes the storyteller to the woodshed and what emerges can’t be fabricated, but only told, and it happens in the warp time of … Continue reading A Thousand Pines

Falling Headlong into the Tackle Box

Last night at the Brady Theater, Garrison Keillor sang and told stories accompanied only by a piano and his red sneakers. He talked about a conversation with a girl from an age he didn’t quite understand. She had lots of steel in various orifices, the lips, ears, nose. Keillor said it looked as if she had fallen headlong into a tackle box. And then we were all singing like it was Sunday morning, “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing,” and “Amazing Grace.” He told a story about his Mom, Grace Keillor, who sent him to swimming lessons in Minneapolis. (Because his cousin … Continue reading Falling Headlong into the Tackle Box