My Favorites (10)

The things I write often feel like my children. I put myself into them, my heart and soul, and send them out into the world. It's hard to pick favorites, but this list is the set that provided me the most therapy, or fullfilled some inner need.

The source of life

Someone on one of my social media outlets shared an UpWorthy article. I'm glad they did, otherwise I wouldn't have the opportunity to learn something I didn't know or understand. The original article I am talking about is here: https://www.upworthy.com/its-black-breastfeeding-week-if-you-wonder-why-this-gut-punching-poem-offers-one-reason If you do not have time to read it, the primary concern of the article is the relationship between the U.S.'s long history of oppression of black Americans, breastfeeding and family. The centerpiece is this poem: I wish I dried up I wish every drop of my milk slipped passed those pink lips and nourished the ground Where the bones lay…

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Kira, remembered

I have a friend that recently came out as transgendered. She had spent some time exploring her inner gender identity in private and found the courage to liberate herself and publicly declare the truth in her soul. I am proud to know someone this strong. It has triggered some strong feelings of guilt and shame in myself though. In the year before Xavier died, he had begun to wear women’s clothing. Not out, but just trying them on around the house. He got ahold of a wig and completed a look. In hindsight, this was a decade or more in…

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The Long Con...templation

Let me tell you a story. May it be that this is legend and true, or legend and parable, do not let fall from your mind the honest core of meaning herein. At the college of Oxford, they take great pride in the long legacy their hollowed halls contain. The school proper was not founded in a traditional sense, but teachings are known to have started in the 11th century of the common era. The most recognizable part of this institution though has a gloriously long name. The Warden and Scholars of St Mary's College of Winchester in Oxford, founded…

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Halloween Stories 2017: A twist on an old diddy

“This story cannot end well for you my friend.” He smirked as his words left the thinest lips ever stuck on a skeleton. He held out his hand, one long boney finger extended to amplify the veracity of his words. “No man is meant to hear the notes played from this instrument. Pride won me this fiddle. But it’s sound is a curse. Death flows from it’s strings, the bow laying waste with it’s tune. It will kill those around you and haunt your every thought. And it won’t let you go.” He tried to pull himself up from his…

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From which greyed hairs are borne

Last night Charlie split his foot open. Playing in the living room, doing “donkey kicks” off of furniture, he kicked something so hard the blunt force impact tore his flesh. Fortunately it looks like the wound was pretty ugly but not particularly terrible. It appears that he will be back on his feet and running out in a couple days. When we left the house I thought he might be losing some toes. One of the difficulties Charlie faces related to ASD is how sensory experiences work. Pain can be a strange beast from my perspective as his Dad. I…

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The power of nature

I caught a scary moment on video... I had about the most terrifying 10 seconds I've ever had today. We are in Maui enjoying one of the most beautiful places and cultures on Earth. We are out in some pretty calm water enjoying the surf, many people are playing all along the beach. We are very shallow, and sticking close to shore. Two things happen that made for a moment of danger that damn near injured my son. First, we had started letting ourselves get close to a jet of rocks along one side. If you watch the video fully,…

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Rain Soaked Precipice

I looked into his eyes. Whatever shred of humanity he once held no longer lived behind those twin raging green oceans. It was empty and cold behind them now. A tiny breeze cools my neck. I might not normally have noticed it. Standing here though, right now, it feels like a hurricane. My gut sinks, I worry this small amount of wind will push him off the ledge. The balance of his feet hang past the edge. He flicks his finished cigarette out into the pitch. We both watch the ember fade into the depth below us. Eighteen stories up.

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The old man and the cliff

A long time ago a very old man lived near the base of a cliff. He lived alone and lived a very long distance away from anyone else. He was alone in these advanced years because his wife had died ahead of him and they had no children. Every day he would make the long climb around a winding path up to the top of the cliff. Every day he would stand on the precipice and point his face to the sky. He would stand there in silence until his knees hurt. Then he would sit and dangle his feet…

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On the subjects of work, ducks, enslaving humanity and Xavier

For a few precious months I had company on my morning commute to work. Xavier interned and lived with me so naturally we drove together. Just under eleven miles in the pre-coffee part of the day. Xavier and I had this natural aptitude for absurd, weird and even offensive humor. Any time we found a thread of humor we would pull it to see where it went. Very early in our commuting partnership we found an odd and repeatable series of events. Every day at 8:35 A.M. we would cross the small bridge on Chambers Bay Road. Every single day…

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Life, raccoons, bees and rain

I have a funny story about life, raccoons, bees, a hole in the roof, rain, and Lee. Those of vivid enough imagination and sufficient knowledge of who I am should probably already have some idea's on the direction this will take. We have recently had raccoon's take up habitation in our attic. Rather, it's a crawl space on the top story of our home, between the interior wall and the low sloped roof. While fixing one of the holes in the roof that the raccoons get in through, it started raining. I'm not a sure-footed man so I tied myself…

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