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“A Vacation Trip to the Southland and a Dance with Sepsis and Hematuria”:
A two-part narrative of how Tony’s and my vacation nearly ended with my weird sudden death. Under Columns
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“Little Tony and the Turkeys”:
How Little Tony almost lost his willy on the way to the outhouse. A sweet story in verse. Under Poems, Love Poems for Tony
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“'It’s a lack of respect,' said my friend Darlene”.
An Education blog article analyzing community college student disrespect for faculty. Under Columns
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“Elegy for Nicole”:
A poem about grief, regret and lasting love. Under Poems, Crossing the Golden Gate.
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Work in Progress...
Under Ethics and Religion:
An exploration of ways in which Christian and Buddhist ethics and values in combination---apart from theology---might serve today’s Americans who seek a new moral standard.
The Mountain (Memoir)
Chapter 1: The House I First Remember
I saw the house for the first time late at night---eleven o’clock probably---after a long ride in a car south from Circleville to Portsmouth, Ohio. It was dark. I think it was early April. I remembered being awakened and told, “It’s time to go see our new house, Dickie.” We moved along the left side of the L-shaped front porch toward the dining room door---my father, my mother now seven months gone with a child who would become my sister Judy, and I in my father’s arms.
The dining room door swung open into a room filled with dark shadows, cast by uneven light from the streetlamp onto very large objects piled up against the walls and heaped in the middle of the room. (...)
The dining room door swung open into a room filled with dark shadows, cast by uneven light from the streetlamp onto very large objects piled up against the walls and heaped in the middle of the room. (...)
Eager to read more? Click on the 'Memoir' link in the menu column (far left) for a free preview of the entire first two chapters.
I Love to Ride upon... (Poem)
I love to ride upon the waters of
The sea, to feel the rocking of the waves
Beneath me as the ship moves through their crests.
I love to see the sunlight spread upon
The rocks along the shore, as dun turns white
And tan turns yellow, burnt sienna comes
To life in chocolate and gold. I love
To see the clouds turn blue to gray and then
To pink in columns high. I love the sea!
Mélisande (Short Story)
(...) Mélisande Peau-de-Soie Noir was one of the most beautiful women in New Orleans in the early years of the Nineteenth Century. Her parents, Argent and Josephine, had come to New Orleans from Haiti toward the end of the short, violent reign of Pierre Toussaint L’Ouverture, though they would never say how. Nor would they say how they met. They would say only that Argent came first, followed a little while later by Josephine. Having very little, they survived on menial work, Argent on the docks and Josephine in the homes of wealthy merchants (...).