Motoring along U.S. Highway 280 in southern Georgia, well past Americus and heading west, I pass an estate with a gated driveway and a flagpole. Flying proudly on the latter is a Trump flag, complete with that catchy slogan: Make America Great Again. On a drive that has felt increasingly sacred with every mile, I flash the idea of pulling over, finding the offender, and shaking some sense into him. “Your hero s
Winter 2004, on the New Jersey transit bus into Manhattan, in conversation with a seatmate, I am discussing how I’ve accepted a job in Boston and my wife and I are moving to Massachusetts. Some guy overhears, sneers, and says, with great contempt, “I hate the Red Sox!” As known among the baseball cognoscenti, the line dividing Yankees and Red Sox territories is approximated by Interstate 91 through
Welcome to God’s Country Tuesday, January 9th, Charlotte Douglas International Airport. I step outside the terminal into gorgeous 70 degree weather. Rolling behind me is my businessman’s suitcase, while slung over my shoulder are two ski bags—a long skinny one for my Elans, a short dumpy affair for the boots. I flag down the hotel shuttle, and its driver stares at me quizzically. In silence he helps me with the
December, 2017 We’re getting older. The world’s getting colder. For the life of me, I don’t know the reason why. — Excerpt from “Dog and Butterfly”, by Heart As I begin writing this post, the good people of Alabama are heading to the polls to vote for U.S. Senator. The candidates are, for the Democrats, an ordinary, highly-accomplished, seemingly reasonable human being, and, for th
Congratulations to us all for surviving to the middle of November, in the year designated by the number 2017, which I just confirmed is a prime number. Meaning, 2017 cannot be written as the product of other integers, like 5 x 13 x 71 (or whatever). The Internet is an amazing repository of trivial information of use to a needy writer. The Web site I consulted for the prime number thing, which is www.calculatorsoup.co
Once at the town swimming pool, When I was a girl, Someone pointed out to me My mother’s high-school boyfriend A blobby man in the water Hair on his back Walrus-like Flopping around I felt no affinity Now I am the mother Of three kids, one merely an infant Plus an ex boyfriend to my credit And a husband who has met expectations Except he drinks too much On the weekends I imagine a reel-to-reel tape recorder Rew
So I am here at this extremely busy And inconvenient international airport, Plenty early for my departure to Mundanetown, U.S.A, To visit family, But lo and behold And similar expressions The departure down the corridor Is nonstop to Buenos Aires, Where we went on our honeymoon All those years ago, before the Divorce, of Course. So I meander over, And find a lounge decked out in Vibrant colors, a South American airli
NOW THAT we have a new baby in the house, I’ve been doing some of the cooking, especially dinner. Most of the dinners have come from an outfit called Hello Fresh, which delivers a big box full of all the ingredients needed for various E-Z-Gourmet Dishes. I dutifully try to follow the directions—I chop the onions and mince the garlic and blanche the asparagus—and while the meals always come out edibl
At the trendy southern tip of the High Line In a converted warehouse Without stage and chairs, and modest sets We patrons of the theater mill about the floor As spotlights shine on the actors Playing brief scenes of passion, anger, fear, Grief That end when the lights dim out; The actors also confront us From time to time The next day On the drive home My wife searches online and finds A restaurant called The Little