44 x 365

172/365 Anita

2007-02-02T17:42:00.000-05:00

I don’t believe that people can channel other beings but I swear Anita simultaneously channels Warhol, Brautigan, Joni Mitchell and Theodore Geisel. Her beaming smile and poetic nature whispers “One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish” without uttering a sound. Shhhhhh. Hear that?

171/365 Harry

2007-01-26T08:53:00.000-05:00

Harry, a photographer and purported art-lover, waves in the air a piece of mail art I’d received – from Belgium - asking “What do you get out of this?” Perplexed by the question I ask “What do you get out of waking up every morning?”

170/365 Roy

2007-01-20T07:18:00.000-05:00

Roy rakes his fingers through his gray buzz-cut hair (a reflex to quiet billions of neurons now firing in his brain) while his rich, lived-largely-abroad life flashes before his eyes. Then--trained to think quickly--answers, “No, not a spy. An intelligence officer.”

169/365 Matt

2006-09-12T18:59:00.000-04:00

I watch Matt lick creativity off the rim of a whiskey glass. Later he’ll toss paint onto an empty canvas with such confidence that I’m convinced the banality of his rural subjects is critical to our species’ happiness; so it is. So it is.

168/365 Carolyn

2006-09-11T13:14:00.000-04:00

Armed with a 2002 Cabernet and 1940’s romance videos, Carolyn spends shadowy hours ironing her family’s clothes, table linens, even pillowcases. Pressing. Sipping. Remembering. Planning. Sometimes pretending. She smoothes troubling wrinkles from their laundry and whenever possible from their day-to-day lives, or hopes so.

Ps. It's good to be back...

167/365 Casey

2006-09-07T20:28:00.000-04:00

Almost twenty-five, Casey’s perched on the threshold of what the future will claim was her favorite decade. Brutally self-directed but youthfully naive, she’s still learning the subtle differences between responding and reacting. Once she masters the two, she’ll undoubtedly be a superhero. Virtually unstoppable.

Eeek.

2006-07-10T11:36:00.000-04:00

Thanks for all the emails/comments - I've just hit a REALLY busy spell this past week. I've got some catching up to do. I will be back in the next couple of days...

166/365 Samuel William

2006-06-30T21:55:00.000-04:00

Will is a Mississippi cotton grower who considers himself a gentleman farmer. Countless acres of southern heritage roll up to his back veranda. Given the opportunity he’ll share anecdotal history of the tractor – the kingpin of farm legends and lore. Next to the barn.

165/365 Steve

2006-06-29T21:48:00.000-04:00

Each morning (often braving subzero temperatures or 85% humidity) Steve walks the half mile from his home to the Trading Post for the daily paper. Sometimes I can’t help wincing as he passes. Not all that long ago is beloved wife walked beside him.

164/365 David

2006-06-28T21:49:00.000-04:00

Gimme Relatives for $800, Alex.

Cousin David

Who was the only one of ten cousins who didn’t have a child out of wedlock, quit school, steal a car, pummel someone, runaway from home, shoot up, join a cult, spend a night in jail.

Correct.

164/365 Betty

2006-06-27T08:16:00.000-04:00

Since her death I remind myself she did the best she could >>>> Did the best she could >>>> The best she could >>>> Best she could >>>> She could >>>> Could >>>> Could >>>> Could >>>> Couldn’t >>>> Couldn’t I >>>> Couldn’t I have >>>> Couldn’t I have tried >>>> Couldn’t I have tried harder?

163/365 Tina

2006-06-26T06:56:00.000-04:00

Tina is a hefty young woman who works at the health club checking in members, sometimes posting bulletins about risks associated with obesity. Usually she’s sitting at the desk. If only working at a gym and working out at one produced the same benefit.

162/365 Doug

2006-06-25T06:28:00.000-04:00

Doug pours exhausting amounts of creativity and into making lots of bread (the kind baked in loaves) and occasionally painting (houses). In his home three small, intricately-cut collages sit on a windowsill like snapshots of his dreams (and talent held captive by life’s parenthesis.)

161/365 Mike

2006-06-24T20:46:00.000-04:00

Over the past 18 years Mike might have sold you a boat, apple wine, perhaps a car. Soon he’ll be convincing you to buy that supplemental insurance with the irritating spokes-goose. He knows selling is about the transaction and your ego, not the product.

160/365 Vere

2006-06-23T06:56:00.000-04:00

First quarter Vere was the only student in our seventh-grade homeroom to ace honor roll with straight A’s. Intellectually fit, he offered himself as a trainer (like athletes use) for your brain. His required reading list included Lord of the Flies and Archie Comics.

159/365 Ken

2006-06-22T05:22:00.000-04:00

Furious with the family cat, Ken stuffed it into the trashcan and left for the office. Eventually conscience prevailed and he called home alerting his wife before the garbage collectors came. Invariably this is my first thought whenever otherwise ultra-mild-mannered Ken comes to mind.

158/365 Gary

2006-06-21T09:40:00.000-04:00

Gary runs hot and cold. Today he’s as personable as a talk show host, dishing dirt and clever one-liners. Tomorrow he’ll torpedo me with a menacing stare from behind the toilet. Whatever. He’s a plumber. He showed up. He’s my savior. Glory. Glory. Amen.

157/365 Jackie

2006-06-20T06:04:00.000-04:00

Jackie, the physician’s assistant, is everyone’s first choice when requesting an appointment. As sharp as the doctor, she actively listens when you answer questions or describe odd symptoms, then responds with comprehendible words and genuine comfort to what troubles you most, your inescapable mortality.

156/365 Bonnie

2006-06-19T06:35:00.000-04:00

Sturdy and a little distrustful, Bonnie was born to be a police officer, not a judge. She vigilantly protects right and punishes wrong regardless of class or circumstance. Only she’s bound by the rights/wrongs of her upbringing, unaware there are new ones; especially rights.

155/365 Greg

2006-06-18T07:22:00.000-04:00

The summer we moved to Pennsylvania my friend Greg traveled six-hundred miles to visit and I demanded he turn around and drive back to Connecticut—me with him—making him an accomplice. Whenever we spotted cops, I ducked. But the cops were never called.

154/365 Jill

2006-06-17T07:24:00.000-04:00

We had to ask Jill to come because she’d seen us in the schoolyard before the bell. “Leaving’s against the rules.” Her refusal sounded like underwater blub-blub, a result of partial deafness. We chanced sneaking through the fence without her. Jill finked us out.

153/365 Rose

2006-06-16T06:59:00.000-04:00

They found Rose and me playing in my basement and marched us back to first-grade. We were ushered to the principal’s office by the infuriated meter of my mother’s high-heels smacking the hallway floor–echoed by Rose’s mother somewhere in the distance wailing in Italian.

152/365 Elaine

2006-06-15T13:27:00.000-04:00

Elaine, a divorced, beautifully-coiffed, Italian tinkerbell, tried with all her diminutive might to love my father–even drew Reddi-Whip hearts on his pumpkin pie. Smarter than we guessed, she gave back the diamond ring before choosing a date, concluding he loved her money most.

151/365 Susan

2006-06-14T06:29:00.000-04:00

Susan had two things every fifth-grade girl and boy wanted: breasts. Not just fashion accessories—plump, powerful currency—she’d wager them in risky bets then nonchalantly lift her shirt (giving winning boys a face-full of bra), knowing her bikini revealed far more, for free.

150/365 Peter

2006-06-13T07:25:00.000-04:00

We later learned Peter missed his cousin's wedding because he was back where he’d recently graduated college, having a son. After months without speaking his father asked his youngest child, why not marriage? “And add divorce to the list of ways I’ve disappointed you?”

149/365 Mickel

2006-06-12T08:07:00.000-04:00

Content at the center of its universe, the sun believes it alone illuminates existence and enlightens the planets revolving around it. It forgets each planet’s individual rotation and dismisses the reality of their darksides as myth-simply because it can never see them.

148/365 Tony

2006-06-11T07:45:00.000-04:00

“Pssst! You hear Tony’s coming back to eighth-grade?” “ No?” “Yeah…I did…was kicked out of high school. Big trouble nobody will talk about.” “Diane heard he was in jail.” “Andrea said he killed someone.” “Who here thinks he’s cute?” “Me.” “Me too.” “I do.”

147/365 Jon

2006-06-10T08:24:00.000-04:00

I only remember Jon’s soft heart, bull’s-eye spiral and varsity jacket–the one emblazoned with our school mascot, a Rebel. QB embroidered on one shoulder, #11 on the other. Parading around in it those Saturday games I was sophomore royalty during a championship season.

146/365 Von Roy

2006-06-09T06:20:00.000-04:00

Von Roy plucks a chartreuse ping-pong ball from elephant dung and pockets it, explaining: Marula fruit. Undigested. Fermented it’s alcohol but drunk elephants is a myth. Back at camp he downs a glass of Shiraz like a shot. Staggering South African alcoholism - no myth.

145/365 Neil

2006-06-08T06:32:00.000-04:00

Everybody knew Neil was my rebound date. Even Neil. He was a hulkish man with a steroid-shrunken meatball brain. Now pay attention here: I was a bleached blonde twenty year-old flake. I thought he was dumb. Too dumb for even rebound sex. That dumb.

144/365 Rick

2006-06-07T05:55:00.000-04:00

I don’t recognize Rick. Wheeling a grocery cart he looks like any old joe–not the all knowing master of the universe he is when there’s a slab of wood littered with coasters and goldfish crumbs between us. It’s like he lost his cape.

143/365 Ina Lou

2006-06-06T06:20:00.000-04:00

Ina-Lou had the wiry frame of a posable stick figure while her parents were marshmallowy dollops plopped onto the back steps. Slow moving, quick hollerers. Summers they escaped Florida’s heat for Connecticut refreshment. I imagined they ate the meat off Ina’s bones en route.

142/365 Linda

2006-06-05T06:24:00.000-04:00

Linda looks more like an attractive 30-something (who perhaps led a stressful life and smoked a pack a day) rather than the fifty-three-year-old she is, which may explain her voracious attraction to and steady attention from hot younger men. Or I’ve got that backward.

141/365 Mercedes

2006-06-04T06:47:00.000-04:00

Mercedes wore sandals, flowing gauzy clothing and her wavy chesnut hair in a long, natural style. On the school bus she spoke about metaspirituality, the nature of goddesses and Wicken lore. Except when stoned. Then she’d laugh, poking fun at disco—the Devil’s dance.

140/365 John

2006-06-03T07:00:00.000-04:00

In the lovely house he built himself that’s now surrounded by trophy homes and second mansions, John dreams of leading his new neighbors' lives of wealth and leisure. He already does by most world standards, so I suggest moving. Ever look into Mexico? Lesotho?

139/365 Dave

2006-06-02T06:24:00.000-04:00

When I phone that I’m not stopping by to see the home gym equipment he’s selling, Dave’s desperate, overblown persistence is unnerving even after we hang up. Staring at the receiver I ponder: did I truly detect a serial killer quality? Or imagine it?

138/365 Joe

2006-06-01T07:18:00.000-04:00

Every Friday evening Joe walks home from the train station carrying his briefcase full of highly respected financial wizardry, an armful of flowers for his wife, and giggles, tickles and dreams for his children. A warning to potential muggers: you’ll only get the briefcase.

137/365 Kim

2006-05-31T06:26:00.000-04:00

Every weekday–after eight hours stationed in the receptionist pulpit–Kim drove the quick hour home, promptly showered, did her hair, re-applied her perfect makeup, dressed in a fresh outfit then waited for her husband’s arrival. The rumbling garage door signaled pour the vodka.

136/365 Irene

2006-05-30T19:02:00.000-04:00

When we met Irene her weight and age were about equal: eighty-two. A silver-haired burst of ambitious wisdom, it was she who stripped the staircase in the house we now live down to its heart pine glory–one layer of history at a time.

135/365 The Morris Family

2006-05-29T06:46:00.000-04:00

Donny was another young man filled with promise and starshine that was erased by a car accident. His mother, a single mom, spent years crumbled in a heap while his sister, cursed that she (the less perfect child) couldn’t live up to his ghost.

134/365 Sean

2006-05-28T06:37:00.000-04:00

At the center of a world known for irrational outbursts, inbred drama and misleading innuendo, Sean was a man of reason, the sole source of common sense and steadfast predictability. From behind the bar he maintained order by pouring another or calling a cab.

133/365 Tony

2006-05-27T06:47:00.000-04:00

Idris’ gorgeous brother Tony was the reason girls hungered for pizza after school. From counter seats, ovenside, they watched his sculpted body (wrapped in a fitted t-shirt) toss pizza dough into the air - a vision that planted the seeds of fantasy. Perennial fantasies.

132/365 Idris

2006-05-26T12:55:00.000-04:00

Idris leered. Constantly. It wasn’t the 40-year-old Romanian’s intention--just the unfortunate, odd arch of his brow combined with the permanently-crooked corner of his mouth. It didn’t help that his interest in young schoolgirls who came into his family pizza joint teetered on perversion.

131/365 Buzz

2006-05-25T06:31:00.000-04:00

Alan was a Napoleonic manager in the management consulting department of an international accounting firm who believed he was of vital importance. Critical. Key. Pivotal. While coworkers left scheduled department meetings with to-do lists, he had action steps. Everyone secretly called him Buzz (words.)

130/365 Brian

2006-05-24T09:11:00.000-04:00

In the dark theater I studied every scene in Apocalypse Now for clues to why Brian (holder of all senior-yearbook-superlative titles) had asked me out. The only logical reason: a dare. I made up excuses to not see him again. I was an idiot.

129/365 Donald

2006-05-23T06:48:00.000-04:00

With poetry so exquisite you almost overlook loss is Donald’s recurring theme and glimpse his beloved wife mopping a poem off the floor or napping in a painted bed. You see her - his words build bridges for her to return. You see her alive.

128/365 Barbara

2006-05-22T07:03:00.000-04:00

Barbara was my first brief experience with psychotherapy. During a memory exercise designed to project me back into the cradle, it was Barbara who wept at the imagined image of an infant crying for mother’s comfort that never came. I sat still. Stunned. Helpless.

127/365 Joshua

2006-05-21T10:48:00.000-04:00

When Joshua isn’t figuring out where splittable atoms come from he’s snapping a camera an arm’s length from his face trying to capture detached hipness in his aviator shades and upturned collar - a still life of a fifteen-year-old he’s getting to know, by blogging.

126/365 Mr. O'Keefe

2006-05-20T07:14:00.000-04:00

Boring Mr. O’keefe once told our biology class about a breathtaking seascape he had photographed, enlarged, framed, and gave to a friend after cutting up the negative - making it one-of-a-kind. Destroying the negative seemed profoundly courageous to this untethered tenth-grader. I suddenly liked him.

125/365 Stig

2006-05-19T06:41:00.000-04:00

Into his eighties but appears much younger thanks to youthful Swedish genes and optimism, Stig breathes inventions to life. He’s made a career worth millions out of tinkering in his cellar and showing his drawings to fabricators - which is the part he most enjoys.

125/365 Eddie - Third Cousin Twice Removed

2006-05-18T07:10:00.000-04:00

Eddie, unemployed and approaching fifty, frequently visited the Woolworth’s department store where my great-aunt worked after her retirement from fifty-three years in the ball bearing factory.

“Couple dollars?” he'd mooch.
“Not for booze."
“No. Final Net.”

Eddie wooed ladies with his Liberace-style, gravity-defying pompadour.

124/365 Robin

2006-05-17T06:59:00.000-04:00

Wives consider Robin the Brad Pitt of carpenters. Pin-up gorgeous AND skilled and affordable, his truck pulling into your driveway is like donning a tiara. Seeing it parked at a friend's requires you visit - if only to ask her what she broke, on purpose.

123/365 Will

2006-05-16T07:05:00.000-04:00

Will is the sort of guy who will painstakingly peel away the many layers of existence, pluck out the essence, snort to himself at the inconsequentiality of it then go take a nap. Somewhere a file cabinet contains a note a doctor scribbled: manic-depressive.

122/365 Roy

2006-05-15T15:53:00.000-04:00

Held together by spit and anger, Roy used his prized jackknife to slice half-way through the neighborhood rope swing in the hope of witnessing some other kid crash to the ground. I don’t recall ever hearing him being called home. Not once. Not once.

121/365 George

2006-05-14T08:11:00.000-04:00

There’s a joke or amusing anecdote for every occasion, every situation, every moment of everyday. George delivers them fluidly between hellos and good-byes. I leave aching from laughter. The folly arises when realizing I’ve known the comic 18-years but haven’t yet met the man.

120/365 Barb

2006-05-13T07:23:00.000-04:00

Barb’s a lifesaver, guiding at-risk students along paths that lead to lives worth loving. Some would make it anyway (via their own unconventional routes) but Barb patiently waits for those who can’t see ahead or read a map. During “off-hours” she drives an ambulance.

119/365 My Dream for Jacob on his 19th Birthday

2006-05-12T07:36:00.000-04:00

Jacob awakes in a foreign country without language or familiar customs. He takes the breakfast waitress hostage with a wink and she teaches him new pronunciations for love. When he meets the ruling emperor and his stable hand, he feels genuine kinship to both.

118/35 David

2006-05-11T06:31:00.000-04:00

In sixth grade there was no denying David bore a striking resemblance to Scooby-Doo. Even teachers made the comparison. It might have been the droop of his eyes or the whinny in his laugh but he was a dead ringer for the animated dog.

117/365 Cynthia

2006-05-10T06:44:00.000-04:00

At the charter meeting of the women’s writing group Cynthia nervously eyes the room while thumbing empty notebook pages. Then announces the book inside of her must be written and reveals that before her recent divorce she hadn’t left her home in eight years.

116/365 Mrs. Holleran

2006-05-09T07:29:00.000-04:00

Marks’ mother was prejudice; she disliked rich people. Regardless of their route to wealth, the financially-solvent were less deserving of grace than the needy poor she met through catholic charities - people who couldn’t walk away from her table without a beholding sense of gratitude.

115/365 Beau

2006-05-08T07:45:00.000-04:00

Growing up Beau was the cousin with the volatile temper who no one fully trusted alone with kittens. He had impish eyes with an unnerving smirk and a lingering rage that he brought from the womb, but folks rave about his mash potato-stuffed meatloaf.

114/365 Patrice

2006-05-07T16:05:00.000-04:00

Patrice was horrified when after tasting the first dried out wafer we cooked, I suggested we bake something other than "cake" in my new Easy-Bake Oven. “Like what?” she asked nervously. “I don’t know. How about some Barbie heads? Or arms? They’ll fit better."

113/365 Ken

2006-05-06T09:17:00.000-04:00

Ken, Starr Pass Resort concierge, flamboyantly replies, “Heavens! Decent Thai doesn’t exist outside D.C. or Frisco; forget Tucson honey!” I read his badge. “Okay then, what’s life like in Morgantown, WV? “Bolted after high school. Who remembers?” I suspect he does. Perhaps viscerally. Perhaps woefully.

112/365 Margot

2006-05-05T08:34:00.000-04:00

Margot sang in the choir and arranged Polo Match fundraisers for her wealthy Presbyterian parish. When her father passed she turned feral, clawing his widow for an antique bureau, knowing her father wasn’t in it and she owned several already. Bloodshed for wooden planks.

111/365 Tom

2006-05-04T07:26:00.000-04:00

Om. Om. Om. Om. Om. Om. Unfortunately I get the sense that like many spiritual leaders Tom wants to be a guru more than he wants to lead me to enlightenment. Om. Om. Om. Om. Om. Om. Om. Om. Om. Om. Om. Om. Om.

110/365 Jody

2006-05-03T08:06:00.000-04:00

Jody helps us pack-n-ship our excess vacation. She shimmers copper and her raven-black hair lifts off her shoulders when she twirls to grab the tape as gracefully as any ballerina. Any ballerina. She’s wearing pink to her prom. The ballerina in the UPS Store.

109/365 Barbara

2006-05-02T09:43:00.000-04:00

Barbara must have swindled god out of this small slice of desert heaven. Her pueblo oasis is adorned with classic native art plus cheap Mexican chachkas leaving no space too empty. She tucks artificial flowers amongst the natural ones for a more pleasing bloom.

108/365 Mariela

2006-05-01T10:25:00.000-04:00

Perpetually on the lookout for what the world lacks and ready with an excessively indulgent supply of fresh towels, gentle-mannered Mariela is your ideal spa attendant. Without my wallet I can only thank her by asking about her children. She begins. Soon she’s glowing.

107/365 Ruth

2006-04-30T12:48:00.000-04:00

For years Ruth, a Hungarian, has driven the same five-mile shuttle route through Grand Canyon Village. Through hissing speakers she shares information, geology and lore, but never the deepest secret she knows: the Canyon is filled by people emptying. Next stop Bright Angel Trail.

106/365 Miss Heuig

2006-04-29T10:41:00.000-04:00

When Miss Heuig became Mrs. Dement she invited two students to her wedding. I was one. I wore my first womens’ clothes: a pleated maxi skirt (remember those?), a ruffled knit top, shoes with measurable heels. She wore white. Who had the bigger day?

105/365 Bartender in Benson

2006-04-28T10:38:00.000-04:00

Desert baked and still shriveling up, in the beer cooler’s glow she appears to have two black eyes. She ain’t lived here a few years but if someone she knows ain’t been drinkin’ comes in she ain’t serving them their first. Hell starts elsewhere.

104/365 Man to my right

2006-04-27T10:20:00.000-04:00

He was sixty-two and retired when he started smoking cigarettes. “What were you thinking?” I ask from the bar stool beside him. “I was just looking for something to do,” he says, “I don’t even inhale, just puff.” Note to self, plan for retirement.

103/365 Mr. Scott

2006-04-26T17:16:00.000-04:00

At my seventh-grade homeroom teacher’s wedding I floated down the aisle on the arm of the boys’ gorgeous gym teacher. The chapel blurred into unfocussed haze as everything outside that beam of light streaming down on us dissolved. Simply remembering still weakens my knees.

102/365 Shari

2006-04-25T09:24:00.000-04:00

Shari was the woman-half-his-age my father brought to my brother’s wedding after the divorce. A sharp young defense attorney, she sat quietly at the family table among the ex’s and steps, deciding for herself whether the stories dad told her was perjurious or purgative.

101/365 Mrs. Azzarito

2006-04-24T09:09:00.000-04:00

Food and love are interchangeable with Italian mothers and they’re happy to feed both to everyone. Producing good children or a decent tomato sauce demand equal devotion and the same well-intentioned yelling. Danny’s mom doesn’t know it but witnessing this behavior changed my life.

100/365 Tom

2006-04-23T08:56:00.000-04:00

Tom was re-elected mayor of a small upstate town even after his variety store was penalized with temporary closure by the state for failure to pay sales tax. So what, his constituents reasoned, he’s willing to do the job that know one else wants.

99/365 Thabelo

2006-04-22T08:37:00.000-04:00

It’s easy to first confuse the impassioned twinkle in Thabelo’s gaze with the more reckless spark of emerging youth but you eventually realize her African upbringing - in the cradle of humanity - has so suffused her with unvoiced universal knowledge that she shines from within.

98/365 Steve

2006-04-21T10:32:00.000-04:00

Steve coaxes exotic woods and veneers into furniture it didn’t know it could be. Listen for giggles and whispers of secret mythic histories when you open a drawer. An unbounded reverence for God, art, and the living hushes him into a deceptively quiet man.

97/365 Nigger Alice

2006-04-20T09:38:00.000-04:00

Alice spent afternoons opposite my grandmother (Honky Alice), slamming cans of Pabst Blue-Ribbon on the kitchen table, laughing, cussing and badmouthing men they’d long since buried. Identical beneath the skin, they used racial slurs as terms of endearment so you knew which was which.

96/365 Uncle Robin

2006-04-19T09:18:00.000-04:00

My stepfather’s younger brother Robin was the sweeter, cuter, funnier son. He was a fistful of glitter tossed into the air. When I was eleven he left me to marry the sassiest Irish lass ever born. I finally forgave him around their third anniversary.

95/365 Mike

2006-04-18T08:53:00.000-04:00

Mike let me drive his new Anniversary Edition ’78 ‘Vette knowing I had no license. After almost burning out the clutch we rocketed like light along rural roads unaware a school bus was unloading around the bend. Slamming short of the unthinkable, nobody spoke.

94/365 Roach

2006-04-17T06:58:00.000-04:00

He was everywhere, getting high or crashing, but I only remember him hurrying out of the neighborhood park wearing tan corduroy bell-bottoms, a windbreaker tied around his waist. Someone had called the cops and he didn’t want to risk having to empty his pockets.

93/365 Mr. Dement

2006-04-16T07:18:00.000-04:00

Mr. Dement taught Print Shop to distracted eighth graders, rapidly plucking individual letters from trays that were already becoming trendy home décor. He commended my ingenuity in using a mirror to proofread backward-set type but still took it away - insisting life be unnecessarily difficult.

92/365 Mary

2006-04-15T07:12:00.000-04:00

Mary’s GI Joe and his bazooka guarded my Barbie in her dreamhouse. When Joe finished killing I urged them to kiss. “No! Gross!” There was something different about Mary but we hadn’t yet learned any of the words that could explain or condemn it.

91/365 Lorraine

2006-04-14T06:45:00.000-04:00

Lorraine’s first time playing charades she quickly abandoned proper miming for frantic pointing. We persistently responded. Grass! Yard! But never: garden, a British term for yard. We realized we meant the same thing but not before time ran out. Luckily we're allies, without bombs.

90/365 Marion

2006-04-13T06:37:00.000-04:00

People bring Marion flattened, dead frogs from around the world that she uses to create roadkill ceramic art. Pressing an impression of the carcass into clay seems to resurrect its spirit. I think that’s what art does: arouses life and death simultaneously, like god.

89/365 Tom

2006-04-12T05:38:00.000-04:00

Tom’s authored the business world’s best-sellers on subjects of excellence and chaos. Listening to him spout to dinner companions it becomes clear he does what gurus do: applies his microcosm of personal foils and failures to a broader group; then oh-so-boldly points to it.

88/365 Mary

2006-04-11T20:40:00.000-04:00

The world and all its gods loved Mary. We ribbed her for marrying our brother then voted to keep her (and give him back) when they split. Photos of that perfect Christmas — the one before the family started shattering — make us miss her more.

87/365 Slim Jim

2006-04-10T06:48:00.000-04:00

Jim wasn’t called Slim because he was, although genetically-linked wealth made him appear thinner. Immense bulk provided protective padding for his razor-sharp wit and fierce mind. His life’s largest cruelty was inheriting the family business where he effortlessly wasted unspeakable amounts of creative potential.

86/365 Jack

2006-04-09T06:34:00.000-04:00

I thought I’d married the perfect man but discovered he too has flaws: he sometimes forgets to remove tissues from his pockets before doing laundry--littering the whole load with white debris. Try imagining the life I’ve had, living with a man like that!

85/365 Jan

2006-04-08T06:23:00.000-04:00

Jan either likes you or she doesn’t. Her choice. You have no say in the matter whatsoever. If she does you’ll have the most loyal, supportive, and dependable friend you could want in this life. If she doesn’t...whoa! I've heard some plead for death.

84/365 Terry's Parents

2006-04-07T06:29:00.000-04:00

Senior year Terry’s devoutly Catholic parents learned their college-bound daughter was miraculously pregnant. Abortion was never an option until Terry ruled out adoption. Then they reasoned god surely created abortion for Ivy-league situations like theirs but remained morally against it for other people’s daughters.

83/365 Lulu

2006-04-06T06:38:00.000-04:00

A tourist at the bar, Lulu kept leaning into our plates. “Smells good. What’s that like?” I worried she might take a bite. When her entrée arrived she moaned, “Deeeeelicious!” And without hesitation offered us a heaping forkful. “Taste this!” I still regret declining.

82/365 Little Irene

2006-04-05T07:04:00.000-04:00

Little Irene isn’t little or big. (She’s “Irene, Jr.” but of course women aren’t called that.) Not overly intelligent, attractive, or pleasant; nor remarkably cunning, disturbingly ugly or alarmingly wicked, she appears to be the very mean of humanity, but Irene’s can be deceiving.

81/365 Gene

2006-04-04T05:44:00.000-04:00

We were twins separated at birth by time. After his unexpected death I upended drawers hunting down photos—terrified I’d forget his face even though it was in every mirror. Shrapnel from the bullet he gunned into his own tormented heart, lodged into mine.

80/365 Brian

2006-04-03T07:40:00.000-04:00

Brian listens to carburetors and fan belts like a maestro hears an orchestra. He spends hours on his back, gazing upward like an artist finding shapes in the clouds, mumbling about universals. His simple explanation for quitting school: they insist you sit in chairs.

79/365 John

2006-04-02T07:15:00.000-04:00

Both sides of John’s brain are sharply developed making him a gifted poet and a skilled lawyer. Apparently neither side dominates. That combination would make me schizophrenic but he manages a fine balance - often delivering his poems printed on the back of revised contracts.

78/365 Kiki

2006-04-01T05:09:00.000-05:00

It could be argued that in 1971 Kiki was the most bubbly camp counselor on the planet, but paralyzed by a headache from enjoying too much pinot noir last night, I am in no condition to do so. Just take my word for it.

77/365 Ron

2006-03-31T08:58:00.000-05:00

Ron falls for every boy his daughters bring home for dinner. Instantly anointing them his best pal, he shows them off as the son he wished he’d sired. When they leave or are let go Ron, broken hearted, impatiently waits for replacements to arrive.

76/365 Peter, circa 1983

2006-03-30T05:45:00.000-05:00

Peter, a government-trained killer, tosses pebbles at my balcony window until I awake. Across town his pregnant wife also sleeps in the dark, leaving me wondering whether lies I’m told before he leaves me are like the ones she hears before he loves me.