The Breezeway

Why don’t I have socks? I hate getting dressed for school when I can’t find socks. Breakfast is ready but I can’t find socks. “Mommy, I don’t have socks.” “Look in the laundry room. In the round laundry basket.” Why doesn’t she say she’s sorry? “I’m going to be late for school. My feet are… Continue Reading

A School Lunch

It was Mrs. H. in second grade, who told Sal and Douglas to get behind the bookcase because they weren’t behaving properly. Unfortunately, she forgot to tell the kids their punishment was over before lunchtime. About two hours after recess we returned to the class and found the two boys standing behind the bookcase in a… Continue Reading


I knew him you did too the silly kid with a chipped tooth and gnarly hair   He stood over there A houseplant   sowed from stale air and a wet bed   From streams of sun seeping through the thickened foliage of our cluttered home   It penetrated delicate layers of his pale skin… Continue Reading

Crayola Confessions: Part II

Recently, on National Crayon Day, Crayola announced the official retirement of the “Dandelion” crayon. Other colors haunt me enough to deserve retirement as well: 1)Tumbleweed: Tumbleweed was a prop I remembered from westerns and old TV shows—not a color. As an arrogant Northeasterner I denied its existence until I finally drove through the California… Continue Reading

Cupid’s Arrow: Love Your Heart Month

“February is American Heart Month,” an exsanguinating man tells me while we’re standing on line in the ER. “You’ve got to respect your heart.” Two arrows stick out of his chest with a gurgling sound when he breaths. He soaks up the blood in a towel underneath. “Are you okay?” I ask. “There’s a hole… Continue Reading

The Distillation of Dad

Years before he began to wither and weaken from Parkinsonism, my father told me that after he started working as a chemical engineer, he went to law school for a semester at night. “I thought I might want to become a lawyer,” he said and described his class on contracts and how he began to… Continue Reading

Ghosts on a Path

There was a time when I drove to work or did something more daring like skiing down a mountain, I always saw my parents on either side of me–hovering, maybe floating at shoulder level, nodding their silent approval. They glanced at one another and back down over my shoulders to observe and silently ask one… Continue Reading