On the subway the old Polish man takes me in charge, rides two stops past his own to make certain I find the right place to get off. When I try to thank him, he shakes his head no, forget it. No one, he says, should be lost when someone else knows the way.
Last Prayer Dear Coherent Mercy: thanks. Best life ever. Personally, I never thought a cool woman would come close to understanding me, let alone understanding me but liking me anyway, but that happened! And You and I both remember that doctor in Boston saying polite but businesslike that we would not have children but then … Continue reading “Last Prayer” by Brian Doyle
When you stop off at rehearsal you can stumble and still be forgiven. Your shadow practices. A light says, "Good, good," where the piano meditates with its wide grin, maintaining order as usual but already trembling for time to go again. Outside the hall a monstrous Oregon night moans with its river of wind. It stumbles. … Continue reading “Practice” by William Stafford
When I flip through my mental catalogue of most poignant days, moments, scenes...there are few that come to mind as quickly as one particular evening with Naomi Nye and a handful of other amazing people. Being one senior in a fairly sparse sampling of "creative writing" majors, I was fortunate enough to be invited to … Continue reading Dinner at Mizuna and ‘Lunch at Nablus City Park’
I was seven years old when my family moved next door to Eddie Jasper.
Henri Nouwen has a beautiful little book titled, Can You Drink the Cup? that gets to the core of human experience in a tender and true way. His driving sentiment, that we all must aspire to hold, lift, and drink the cup of salvation that is our lives, is one that speaks so directly to the individual … Continue reading Holding the cup of sorrow & joy
From a narrow vantage I sit, watching her brown feet hammer across hot sand like an upright crab dancing across shells. I think she is a sweet date with no wrinkles, her saggy swimsuit a mere adult artifact she graciously dons -- its ruffles and hearts nothing more than the coded language of the times. … Continue reading From a narrow vantage