A Word or Two About Art Duey

I promised Susan Duey that I'd write out the remarks I delivered at her husband's, Art Duey, Celebration of Life held last weekend in Livermore. Instead, I've written more of what I wanted to say, unimpeded by chemo-fog, anxiety and fatigue. If you were there, I hope you read this, too. I could stand here...

The Ostensibility of Pain

The old, familiar knife in my back returned after twelve hours behind the wheel, the tell-tale sign of another blood clot passed to my right lung. Such has been this cycle for years until I began taking an anticoagulant, after which I’ve covered tens of thousands of miles without the thrombosis lobbing embolisms into my...

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Be a Fraud or Be Real

A decade ago my oldest sister told me I was a narcissist. Like a narcissist, I didn’t believe her and went on my deluded path fathering, husbanding and teaching in the way I knew was best. I taught human communication, goddammit, ergo I’m okay, if not the shining example of a humanitarian. Too often I’d...

Any Children

I was originally going to begin this post with a short quip, something like; Religion: the Original Hate Speech, but Mindy counseled me against that. “Too many people are watching you,” she said. If you’ve been a friend of mine during this social media experiment you know that I have  a hard time keeping my...

A Microdiatribe

There’s something about talking myself out of throwing up, despite the accumulation of saliva and mucus and the nausea, all induced by a combination of Lorazepam, brandy and melatonin, all in an effort to support the notion that I do not want to die. Given the current prospects and symptoms, I think it’s a reasonable...

Softie

Barry Benison was a bully at Maryland Avenue Elementary School and then at Junction Avenue Junior High. I’ve changed his name to not completely throw him under the bus, but if you lived in either or both of those contexts, you know damn well who I’m talking about. Barry battered me around, down on the...

The Troubles of the World

I had the opportunity to sing in a concert choir my first year of college under the direction of Dr. Howard Putnam. Part of our literature was Soon I Will Be Done, a Negro Spiritual. He led it with an intensity and determination, at perhaps only two thirds of its intended tempo, indicative of the...

I Should be Dead by Now

I once worked as a detailer for a car wash that also had gas pumps. One of the line workers pulled a car forward not realizing it was still being filled ripping the pump off the island, spraying gasoline into the air that ignited. The worker fled the car leaving the inferno next to an...

No More Fiendish Punishment

During my first year on campus our institution was graced by a particular student who'd propel her wheelchair from class to class by puffing on a straw. She appeared to have an assistant in tow, as well, but aside from that she seemed perfectly capable of so much. She'd zip around our accessible campus, her...