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…

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There is No Middle Ground

I'm sitting in skybox 306 in the BOK center and the Broken Arrow band is playing Pomp and Circumstance as 1,137 Broken Arrow Seniors stream down eight aisles like ants who have discovered a donut on the sidewalk. This isn’t anything like my graduation except it was also in a gymnasium, where I sat by…

His Folger’s Can is Empty

The man with the shepherd crook disguised as a dust mop has died. There is a melancholy in the closet where the mops lean against the wall and the Folger's can is empty, no longer filled with Brach's candy. Rusty gave it all away. General Douglass MacArthur said, "Old soldiers never die; they just fade…

Saying Goodbye to Jimmy

He said goodbye in the same graceful and light-hearted way that he lived, revelling in his answers to aggressive sales folks on the phone when asked why he was cancelling his phone service or subscriptions, “The reason I’m cancelling is I’m dying, I’m going home.”

Dancing Around the Costume Chest

Back in the days when my kids believed in Santa and my words had the force and weight to either bless them or crush them, our daughters and son indulged in make-believe, dressing up to become the character of their dreams through the magical powers of the family costume chest. It was magical only in…

Flashes of Wonder

If I wrote like my wife talks, I'd write narrative like a kid writing home from summer camp, "I had oatmeal for breakfast and we played softball and I outran all the boys in a foot race and we had hamburgers for dinner..." But, I write like a Red Bull-drinking cat on a hot tin…