Monthly Archives: September 2012

b ~ My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin

The catalogs have started arriving. I had this brief impulse to ditch teaching yesterday and stay home under the covers and pore through the pages. With so many catalogs becoming online only these days, I treat the ones that do

b ~ My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin

The catalogs have started arriving. I had this brief impulse to ditch teaching yesterday and stay home under the covers and pore through the pages. With so many catalogs becoming online only these days, I treat the ones that do

a ~ My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin

Can we all agree, please? Ironed clothes do not intrinsically look better than wrinkled ones. A smooth surface does not a kind heart indicate. A well-starched collar isn’t a sign of bravery, confidence, or a robust bank account. I’m not

a ~ My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin

Can we all agree, please? Ironed clothes do not intrinsically look better than wrinkled ones. A smooth surface does not a kind heart indicate. A well-starched collar isn’t a sign of bravery, confidence, or a robust bank account. I’m not

a ~ (They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”)

So, Saturday afternoon I was selling popcorn with a bunch of waist-high cub scouts at our local Walmart. My phone rings, which is a tiny miracle as I rarely remember to charge it. “Didn’t you get your car inspected?” It

a ~ (They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”)

So, Saturday afternoon I was selling popcorn with a bunch of waist-high cub scouts at our local Walmart. My phone rings, which is a tiny miracle as I rarely remember to charge it. “Didn’t you get your car inspected?” It

b ~ (They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”)

One of the highlights of my week involves opening the New Yorker and spotting a cartoon that feels meant for me. The other day I found one by Roz Chast about a man being brave enough to wear a beret.

b ~ (They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”)

One of the highlights of my week involves opening the New Yorker and spotting a cartoon that feels meant for me. The other day I found one by Roz Chast about a man being brave enough to wear a beret.

a ~ With a bald spot in the middle of my hair

The first day of school the sun was high, the sky was blue, the day was lovely and my hair smelled like piperonyl butoxide. Why yes, I treated myself for lice the night before. Did I have lice? No, I

a ~ With a bald spot in the middle of my hair

The first day of school the sun was high, the sky was blue, the day was lovely and my hair smelled like piperonyl butoxide. Why yes, I treated myself for lice the night before. Did I have lice? No, I

b ~ With a bald spot in the middle of my hair

  When I was young I spent a great deal of time at my grandparent’s house. My first real job was washing my grandfather’s Cadillac. He loved that car and I tried my hardest to clean everything just thoroughly as

b ~ With a bald spot in the middle of my hair

  When I was young I spent a great deal of time at my grandparent’s house. My first real job was washing my grandfather’s Cadillac. He loved that car and I tried my hardest to clean everything just thoroughly as

b ~ Time to turn back and descend the stair

I am easily seduced by the past, comforted by memories and thoughts of days gone by. If given the chance I could happily dwell in that safe and well-known land.And yet I seem to be getting these messages from the

b ~ Time to turn back and descend the stair

I am easily seduced by the past, comforted by memories and thoughts of days gone by. If given the chance I could happily dwell in that safe and well-known land.And yet I seem to be getting these messages from the

a ~ Time to turn back and descend the stair

A friend in college whose name I don’t remember used to run the stairs. He’d pick the highest building – and at UMass the buildings towered over the geography of western Massachusetts – and run up, then down, up, then

a ~ Time to turn back and descend the stair

A friend in college whose name I don’t remember used to run the stairs. He’d pick the highest building – and at UMass the buildings towered over the geography of western Massachusetts – and run up, then down, up, then