life

My Friend Bill

Bill is one of those guys that you don’t forget…nay, that you cannot forget…that your subconscious, even, refuses to loosen your memory of. Bill is infectious. ’Tis why standing over him while he peacefully lay on his deathbed, in the presence of his wife, his daughter-in-law, and me (the least of all in the moment) was so

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The Voice of My Father

The assistant coach penciled in “K”, for strikeout, on the scorecard… “C’mon, Johnny…damnit!!!” The assistant coach’s shoulders sagged as Johnny’s father, the head coach, threw his hat onto the cinder in front of the little league dugout, creating a little dust storm near his feet. The degrading, tyrannical speech continued publicly, as Johnny slipped by his

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