Fifty-two is not that old really, even though I am now decidedly middle-aged, but since we raised our kids when I was especially young, it’s hard for me to imagine raising a child today. If I had a deficit of patience back then, which I most certainly did, I have…
Cutting Bait
I wasn’t there the morning they found old Bill Yawley with a knife in his chest at the fish camp, but you can be sure I heard all about it when I got back. Story went, and this was from several reliable sources, someone shoved a filet knife straight into…
Wicked This Wind Blows
Many of us, from time to time, during this peculiar period of forced isolation and rare discomfort we collectively find ourselves, will indulge the desire to protest our current situation, even as we sit there, idle in our climate controlled abode, full of all manner of food and drink, replete…
Seven Seconds
It’s been thirty days since I last had a drink. I don’t know why thirty days holds such a big place in sober circles, but it does. I guess it’s as good a marker as any. A month. Four weeks. Long enough to mean something and at the same time,…
America’s Game
One of the hardest things to endure when it comes to the global COVID-19 pandemic—for me at least—has been the lack of baseball. To those who are not fans of the game, or sports in general, this might seem callous or even downright offensive in light of the death and…
Stir Crazy
As a general rule I am not a terribly social person, and in fact avoid in-person social interaction whenever possible, so when I was told to isolate myself because of a global pandemic, I didn’t have to even think twice about it. No problem, I thought, I’ve been waiting for…
Wasting Time
It’s Saturday morning and I’ve come downstairs to find my wife Jane sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and reading a magazine. I’ve been upstairs showering, dressing, and generally trying to decide how I want to waste my time today. That’s what Jane calls it. Wasting time. I’m okay…
Power tools
Up until quite recently, my entire tool collection consisted of a few mismatched screwdrivers, a circular saw my mother gave me, a power drill my wife bought me, and various tools we had given Ricky, my seven-year-old step-son, for Christmas. Ricky’s tools weren’t even toys; they were real, and I had…
Looking For bears
“We’re going to the dump,” Jane announced. I was lying on the sofa of a cabin in the Adirondacks. We were on vacation and I had purposely traveled thousands of miles away from home just so I wouldn’t have to do anything remotely like work. This sounded like work. I…
I’m Not From Here
Originally published in New Jersey Monthly Along the shores of Tuscany grow wild, salty shrubs that sailors, long ago, claimed to be able to smell long before they could actually see land. It was this distant scent that alerted them that home was near. Although I have never spent time at…