Spit and Whittle Club meets again

These here last couple of months have caused the boys at the Spit & Whittle Club to come to the weakly metin all fired up. There were so many things that I jist decided I couldn’t report on thim all. But this weeks metin were the most civil till the end. First we...

Rites of passage

I packed my suitcase with my winter clothes, red housecoat, and jewelry box. For the first time in my life, I left home in February 1968 to attend Central Michigan University. In retrospect, the day is grounded as a rite of passage. Never again did I share a bedroom...

Small but powerful acts of love

Nick was quite a character. Back when I was in the Navy, Nick shared the other side of a wall with me. My bed was up against one side in my room and his was up against the opposite side in his room. Even before I knew his name or had met Nick, he made an indelible...

The crows’ conference caws

Friday, January 29, the sun set while I typed the last line of my second novel. Two hundred and ninety-nine pages. Five hundred and eighty five hours. Surprised and gratified, I rolled my chair away from my desk, two days before my deadline. What now? No, best not...

Be part of a mercy culture

Do you remember when McDonald’s used to have an advertising ditty that included the words, “You deserve a break today?” I’m old enough to remember when Calgon bubble bath used to advertise with a tag line, “Calgon, take me away!” Marketing firms are keen observers of...

Poetic justice

Our kittens, Cuddles and Mittens, chase one another, spat from kitchen to dining room. Their two-ring circus amuses me, unlike PJ and Mo, our beloved and belated tomcats, lone mousers for eight and eighteen years respectively. Several weeks after we buried Mo, we...