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A Strange Tail

There is something magical about being somewhere for a period of time.  A long enough period of time to be able to know things about where you are. I once had a job in my biology teacher’s lab.  I measured seaweed.  A certain kind of seaweed. He was studying the effect on its growth by the warm waters being evacuated from the nuclear power plant on the coast. And as the summer drew along, with only the company of the classical...

The Backyard, a return

I don’t know why such a simple thing like feeding the birds should make me feel so out-of-step with the rest of the world. It’s something I often feel. But bird feeding? It’s that our world has become obsessed with being special, I think. Special houses. Special cars. Special jobs. Special children. Nothing ordinary is tolerated any more.  Everyone has a specialty.  Or is supposed to. Everyone excels. It’s no...

The Backyard

It has been many years that I have lived here. I came to live here in a most round-about way, and in spite of desperately wanting to leave for most of those years, here is where I have lived. Children have grown up.  Left.  Come back.  Left again. Usually leaving a cat or two.  Once even three. I live on the ground floor.  Except for the laundry room, the entire floor is mine alone. I read here. I eat here. I sleep here. I write here....

On Home

Arena For me, home is associated with a person that you want to be with. The idea of home. The reality of home is something else completely different. Different from the idea. Different from the ideal. The reality of home is like being on a roller-coaster out-of-control at Niagara Falls in a hurricane. It is an emotional challenge,  a continual confront to my sense of balance. The assault is something I hunker down against. But the...