One minute everything is fine, and then… Twice in my life I have been momentarily convinced that a total stranger was about to kill me. Given my sheltered upbringing and habitual avoidance of risky behavior and potentially unsafe scenarios, it seems an unlikely statistic. Both incidents occurred when I was a college student engaged in..
Category: Stories (Non-fiction) - page 8
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..
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. ..
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..
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..
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..
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..
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..
Mom and me, 1971 I don’t remember taking a walk along a lake with my mother on a chilly fall day, but the gentle moment is documented in a faded color photograph. I was no more than a toddler at the time. Looking at it now, I can imagine how fresh and exhilarating the sensation..