I don’t think my father had a dream. Or a plan. He had only moments in-between the beginning and the end I have pictures Black and White and still unfaded The first picture is of a little boy with the promise of adventure in his eyes A toddler holding a…
Emotional Support Animal
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The Story of Potato
One Potato Gone She was so beautiful, Potato. I did not believe I would ever be the best friend of such a beautiful creature, or such a devoted, loving, cuddly, funny, athletic, perfect, puppy. But, for a minute, I was. The minute was: Delightful …
29 Years of Marriage Later
29. years of marriage later and not much has changed. Hellooo! I’ve been writing and performing the story of my life for the past 3 1/2 years. To accomplish this epic feat, I’ve been hiding from my daily life and not writing anything here, or anywhere else really. Today, that…
Where We Left Our Childhood
Feet barely skimming the water, sitting on the end of the Miller’s dock on Lake Pillsbury, sunburned and exhausted from a day spent water skiing with my best friends, Lisa and Nellie. My brother, Matt, has just dropped off a contraband six pack of beer. We’re 13, it’s the end…
Shut the Front Door
I think I’m the one that broke the rules. But only in the daylight. I didn’t always look to see who was there. I rarely locked it. I left it wide open if something exiting came in. Or went out. In my original families home, the best things came in…
#3 Clutch or Brake? Life With Dad
I was 12 when it was time to learn how to ride a motorcycle. My father collected used cars, boats, motorcycles, people, accidents. Buying anything new was a foreign concept to my parents. They both loved to refinish antiques. Obsessive almost. I’ve always wondered what, exactly, they were trying to…
Story #2 – Mom
My mother made things: clothes, vegetables, furniture, houses, enemies. As a product of the depression, she was frugal to a fault. As absolutely annoying as this was, sometimes it was comedy gold. I grew up in the 1960s, a decade which, in and of itself, is fairly amusing. I was…
Story # 1: Men, Dogs, and Giving Up
I was five when my father threw me out of our boat into Lake Mendocino. It was time to learn how to water ski. Bobbing behind the boat with my lifejacket hovering over my head, my left arm got tangled in the tow-rope. I yelled “Hit it” hoping the rope…