Photo: Kevin Palmer

Orphaned Again

I am a few miles from the spot where my father ended his life, on this date, in such weather, thirty one years ago, when he was my present age of fifty three.


Last I Heard From My Father

When I was in high school, my family broke up and I moved to Greece with my father. He scored us this fabulous apartment: spacious, airy, tile floors, balconies off every room. He found me this crazy antique desk. We set it up in the living room and I did all my school work there,…

Photo: Glen van Alkemade 2015

Through Drifting Snow

It is snowing hard.¬†This weather brings to mind three¬†girls for whom — or with whom — I have slogged through waist-deep drifting snow. When I was in junior high school, I lived in Wisconsin and had a crush on my friend Sheila. She lived just a few blocks away, and I would call her in…

My Big Fat Greek Roommate, or, Why I Don’t Drink

The Lifeless One was vast. He stank of sweat, beer, and vomit, and was soaked in all three. As we heaved him up the stairs, I had a fleeting sense of living the wrong life, like the elephant in that Far Side cartoon who suddenly finds himself seated at a concert piano.