| Bedroom Sounds Posted: Aug 31, 2012 - 6:50am |
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No recording tricks. Just an ordinary night, and an open mic. Oh, and an open window. [ Show Comments (3) ] |
| Rowboats Posted: Jan 18, 2011 - 4:59am |
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Dad? Dad? Are you there? I don't trust this boat. One day we were out in the middle of a calm lake. Dad commented about how it was a particularly deep lake and how the two of us were right then afloat in its deepest spot. Just putting out some interesting trivia, he was, as if no one special were listening. It was how he always spoke to me. I peered over the side, down onto the lake's absolutely flat surface, the water below only blackness. "How deep is it?" I asked. He answered in an exacting way a five-year-old could comprehend: in multiples of the height of the house back home. It was hundreds and hundreds of feet, many houses' worth. I wondered aloud as to our fate should the little wooden rowboat develop a sudden leak. He was so steady, so assured: "Well, we'd have to swim back to the car." Besides not knowing how to swim, I didn't know where the car ... |
| Pride of the Yankee Posted: May 8, 2010 - 6:55am |
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My office is basically a leased beach bungalow, and a small building project is ongoing here. Several small brown Asian men are making it happen. The lead player in the project is a man almost my age. A good guy. A good deal more knowledgeable than most. He informed me yesterday about how he wouldn't be, couldn't be, working today. One of his daughters gave birth to a grandson a short while back. This morning was the christening at a nearby church, with my son an appointed godfather. Godparents in these parts are always numerous in appointment, several for each event. As if a lot of spares will be needed. Hey, I've been to a grandson's christening here. It's a big deal. |
| For Example Posted: Aug 25, 2009 - 7:24pm |
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Even though he rarely ever spoke directly to me, my father was a great teacher of what to do, what not to do. I learned more from him about that stuff than from anyone else. All I had to do was watch.[ Show Comments (3) ] |
| My muffin Posted: Nov 6, 2008 - 3:11am |
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What a lousy start to a lousy day. My muffin is NOT microwaved. I specifically asked for it, as usual. And they know me. They all know me. They know I ALWAYS have my muffin microwaved. Just how hard is it to get that done, people! Eight years ago, I was out of work, knocking on doors, and in debt. But today, my muffin is not microwaved.Three years ago, the wife noticed a lump in her neck. But today, my muffin is not microwaved. Two years ago, for 48 sleepless hours for everyone, a grandchild went through a bad fever and flu. But today, my muffin is not microwaved. Five years ago, my wife was sleeping on a hunk of plywood, with no roof. But today, my muffin is not microwaved. One year ago, my mother was on her deathbed. But today, my muffin is not microwaved. Twenty-five years ago, I was residing in a prison ... [ Show full text and comments (12) ] |
| Pregnant Teenage Girl Posted: Sep 2, 2008 - 12:41am |
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I knew this girl once. Well, I didn't know her name then. At the time, all I ever called her was Pregnant Teenage Girl. Oh, not to her face, no. And I've since learned her name well. Given name and surname both. My first real conversation with her was remarkable only in how utterly unremarkable she seemed. Quiet as a mouse, she was. Resting there, big as a house, just outside her one-room hut. Sprawled uncomfortably atop a bamboo bench under a thatched awning. A place the father could not yet afford. She was lucky, I suppose, as the father did not run, and tried his level best for her. A good guy? Dunno. Maybe he had good parents himself, people who stressed responsibility or something. Maybe he just thought he wanted kids. Who knows? Whatever the case, he was right there with her for conception, for finding out about the conception, and then for ... |
| The Farmer's Daughter Posted: Dec 10, 2007 - 10:03am |
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A mother of four small ones already is heavy with another while pitching in to help her husband. There's always work to be done on a farm. It's a yearlong, never-ending cycle of toil, especially for share-croppers, as these two are. A familiar pain rises. How far is it to the hospital? Doesn't matter, as she won't make it back to the house even. Sitting right down among the remnants of last season's beets, and knowing how soon it'll be, she calls out to her helpmate. He's an experienced hand at many things, including this. Thick blankets are fetched and appear before the couple's third girl begins breathing her first afternoon's air. Good thing. It's mid-January, and though these fields are in the south, it's the south of Minnesota. It was also before the War. No, not that one, the one before that. So, a hearty soul, born right there on the farm. ... [ Show full text ] |
| The strength of my wife Posted: May 7, 2007 - 11:32am |
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First the easy one. Each of her children was born, while she was conscious and lucid, without drugs of any kind. Yep, old school.
Emotional strength? She has outlived a son, having to sit by, and effectively watch, while the boy suffered for his last several hours -- with her absolutely unable to do anything about it. Physical strength? She can climb a mature coconut tree to the top -- before the notches are cut and AFTER becoming a grandmother. Tenacity? She once fought off a would-be rapist, he being armed with a gun (as an on-duty cop, of course he had a gun); she had grabbed a long, heavy knife (you may think of it as a machete, though technically that's not what it was). A nearby hospital was able to save the young man's arm -- though I'm told he never uses it much anymore. There are times when, through insinuation, a known male poster is said to be female somehow or other, or is said to possess female characteristics, and is ... [ Show full text and comments (11) ] |