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Beginnings
I landed in Belize in the afternoon, a half hour earlier than scheduled. I had plenty of time at the baggage claim and waltzed through customs with a bored nod from the officer who barely looked up from his smartphone. On the curbside waiting for my ride, I checked Facebook and suddenly was struck by…
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Why I Loved–and Left–Detroit
Detroit is a bad city. I mean, Michael Jackson bad. Urban Dictionary bad. I love the country feel of the East side because it reminds me of home. I love the stylish realness of the West side because it reminds me what I left home to experience. I love being in a city full of black…
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Stuff–What is it all?
Moving. You find yourself stuffing boxes with things like ratty old bedding, a rag rug you never finished (but plan to) or looking at a rusting metal ruler and thinking, Do I really need this? only to decide that the answer is yes. No matter how few possessions I think I have, when it’s time…
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Stale, Hot Cheetos
Hot Cheetos. Stale Cheetos. Stale, hot Cheetos. I was well known in the city as a food critic, but no one knew the intricacies of my daily routine. They didn’t know, for instance, that every evening I filled my sink with warm water, opened a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and set it at the…
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Short Wave
The year, 1996. The time, universal. Somewhere, far back-a-bush, “Mmm Bopp” squeaked out of a short wave radio into the humid night. The radio sat in a corner of a thatch hut, on a knock-an’-stan’-up table, its antenna broken crudely and splinted back together with a thick coating of flimsy scotch tape and an emery board. In the…
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The Storm
A pony-drawn hearse rolled up for my father. He was still alive but very sick and surely would not survive the storm. There were murmurs of a great storm roaring our way over the hills and gaining power. The murmurs grew and spilled out into great worries and the worries turned to terror. We didn’t even board…
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