Archive for the ‘Piece of Mind’ Category
Scrawled on the mailbox side over the metal rivulets was the old man’s last name. Though it belonged to a long lineage of back-broken men and sad women, the broad blood-colored paint strokes of his own making on display at the end of the driveway made the name belong to only him, and not even to the grandkids who sometimes watched him work.
He’d painted it on a Saturday morning in a half-lit garage, where he did all his building and fixing, that smelled like 100 year-old limestone sweat and oily work tools. He had sturdy hands, his fingers calloused and often bandaged. Sometimes there were open sours smeared with some red first aid goop that his grandsons thought particular to old wisened men from another generation. They’d watch him in the narrow tool shed next to the garage sharpen lawn mower blades standing in shooting orange sparks, his face not changing. The boys, if they were older by another five years, might have seen him as the composite of the concentration and the lostness of old age, but instead saw him as still. His work was done in quiet, repaid with a handshake from a neighbor happy to mow again or a smile from a little boy grateful to have a bicycle tire patched, and when he was done, he was usually hungry. (more…)
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Tags: Family Life
The Drive
Monday, May 18th, 2009
Sloppy behind the wheel, too broad on the turns at the intersections, the caravan came wild toward its destination – a karaoke bar attached to a strip club. Artificial lights had taken over the city streets with a brown-orange hue muddying the crosswalks and building sides. Another intersection and the cars swung wide, the passenger-side tires coming up to the pavement and veering off. The windshield glass started beading light rain, an occasional heavy drop falling hard and streaming through the smaller ones. But they kept their windows down, their heads looking out and their arms reaching, waving drunk hellos to foot traffic on the sidewalks, waiting for lights to change or sitting under umbrellas and sipping café drinks.
l fell back in my seat and concentrated on following the taillights. I did my best to keep up, but sober, I wasn’t nearly as good a driver as them. (more…)
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Tags: Bars
Back Bedroom
Wednesday, May 13th, 2009
Sometimes, this happens. I almost gave up on this piece. I spent an afternoon writing it. I sent it to a friend for editing when I thought I’d come too close to it (thank you, Jenni). But here it is, a mercy posting. Whittled down to its essence, the most beautiful words here and the others dicarded, so that what I meant to say is more evident – and relevant. Good. Now I can move on to something else.
In the back bedroom, I cleared some space on a desk for my things. I set some private papers written in lawyer language there, my keys, my wallet and filled the drawers with cash and some writing that I’d composed on loose pages a year ago. This is my confidant now. The place where I have absolute faith – this room with the desk and its tall mirror. The subtle hint by its interior designer must be introspection. On every wall, a mirror shows me back to myself and my life in legal records. (more…)
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Tags: Me
These streets are New York streets. In the spring, the trees and the sidewalks out front could be in a clearing in Central Park. The warm sun on the pavement could just as easily fall on old men’s shoulders and cast angles on chessboards and wrought iron tables. The sounds are almost identical, too – light conversation interwoven with the swishing leaves and squirrels jumping invisible in the darkest spots in the highest branches. Our neighborhood is half-a-continent away – further if measured by state of mind. The Heartland people are supposedly not as vocal and more practical as New Yorkers, but the calmness in all the activity makes the pleasure in it are the same for both. (more…)
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Tags: City
Swashbuckling photography was something I thought was relegated to comic books. You know, something for the funny pages – the always on-the-spot photographer, like Jimmy Olsen or Peter Parker – good natured and fun, but definitely talented and hard-nosed when he needs to be. Aaron Lindberg taught me that those caricatures come from real life photojournalists, and that they weren’t derived from comic strip frames. (Here are some kind words he posted about me this week). (more…)
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Tags: People
