Category: Stories (Non-fiction) - page 8

Confidentially…

What do Bugs Bunny, taking a bath, and a precocious vocabulary have in common? This is a cautionary tale, a story of how ignorance and the nuances of language can combine with coincidence to convey an unintended message of a mortifying caliber.  It is the true account of a boy who was unaware that the unpleasantness..

Read more

Son Of A Son Of A Son Of A Son Of A Civil War Soldier

The Hunt men:  from left, Grandfather Roy, Great-Grandfather Frank, and Great-Great-Grandfather Horace. I drive past two thousand, two hundred and sixty dead Confederate soldiers every morning on my way to work.  Perhaps this would not be noteworthy were I a denizen of the south, but I live in Columbus, Ohio, well into old Union territory. ..

Read more

I Once Was A Man Who Lived In A ‘Shoe…

It was the only campus dorm in which every resident was suspended.  Literally. Ohio Stadium is not quite what it used to be.  Though its tradition of hosting Buckeye football games continues unabated and the structure itself remains an unmistakable landmark for sports fans and aircraft pilots alike, a piece of it that thrived for..

Read more

Broadway Boogie-Woogie

As Aunt Peg would have said, “Isn’t that somethin’?” I remember my Great Aunt Peg as a kindly old woman who seemed to be in a perpetual state of amusement.  She ambled about with her stout frame and white hair, her sparkling eyes framed by glacial grooves of laugh-worn wrinkles, her cherubic mouth always somewhere..

Read more

You’ll Probably Need Stitches

Those points are supposed to go down toward the ground. The house in which I grew up had aluminum downspouts that descended from our gutters and curved away from the foundation atop beveled cinder block.  They channeled rainwater adequately, but they were prone to rust and had sharp edges at their openings.  Not much of..

Read more

Hostel Is A Homophone

The bridge from Sandy Hook to Harpers Ferry…and also from lunacy to sanity. “Nothing just happens!  Nothing just happens!” thundered the evangelizing voice of T.D. Jakes as I gnawed on fried chicken from the comfort of my hotel bed.  The congregation shouted its approval of their leader’s assertion that there is no such thing as a..

Read more

Trumpet Lessons

The bane of my adolescent existence. Black Monday. My parents were disappointed with the label I had affixed to the evenings on which my trumpet lessons were scheduled.  Having spent a good deal of money to purchase the instrument itself, they no doubt would have been pleased had their son expressed any measure of gratitude..

Read more

8 visitors online now
1 guests, 7 bots, 0 members
Max visitors today: 10 at 12:06 am UTC
This month: 15 at 10-01-2018 03:34 am UTC
This year: 50 at 09-29-2018 04:29 pm UTC
All time: 50 at 09-29-2018 04:29 pm UTC