The quality is horrendous, for that I apologize. This picture lived a tough life. It’s a photo of a photo in a photocopied copy of a city planning pamphlet. I planned on writing this post weeks ago, but I never went out to take the necessary picture. I could have found a picture on the … Continue reading (Don’t) Sharrow the Road
I hate guns. All guns. Carried by anyone. Cops, trained citizens, soldiers, immature jerks who feel powerful with a pistol on their hip. Anyone. My reasons are simple: if a gun isn’t present, no one get’s shot. I don’t care about the second amendment; it was written in a different time, for a different group … Continue reading When Rights are Wrong
When you read a blog post do you hit Like? I do, almost every time. If I make it to the end, and I wasn’t offended—no sexism, or racism, or intolerance—I click the Like button. I see it as a marker, a tag. Like I’m a graffiti artist with a can of spray paint; I’ve … Continue reading Like?
Don’t politicize the tragedy they say, or at least they’ve said that in the past. Now isn’t the time to debate gun control. This is a time for thoughts and prayers. In El Paso, Texas a shooter (how in God’s name did this ever become a word) shot forty-six people in a Walmart. Where I … Continue reading (Angry) Thoughts and (Hopeful) Prayers
Once upon a time, I spent my weekends sick. Sick during the days, but not at night. The nights I spent drunk. My mornings started early. Saturday and Sunday, eight o’clock, nine o’clock. Maybe not early by today’s standards—I’m up at five each day during the week—but eight A.M. is early when you get to … Continue reading My Hungover Weekend
My car is parked sidelong on a hill. The driver-side wheels cling to the edge of the asphalt, barely touching the roadway. The passenger-side, eighteen-inches lower, sits on the lip of a steep, grassy embankment. As I pulled off the road, I felt a vague fear that the car might flip. I sit now at … Continue reading Hobbies
This short story originally appeared in the Bangalore Review. Chris My alarm shrieks. It’s 6:57. Out of bed and into yesterday’s clothes. Dizzy from alcohol and insufficient sleep, I step into the morning under-dressed. My coat lies on the couch, the December freeze ignored in my haste. I race the clock to move my car. … Continue reading Different Lives
Can you separate the asshole from the art? Last weekend, I went for a drive. Sophie, a rising high school senior, is giving college a try. With one hundred fifty other kids, she’s spending a week on a college campus studying Environmental Science. It’s the whole deal: dorms, dining halls, lectures and lots of field … Continue reading Are they dead to me now?
I was a newshound. Everyone was. As a young adult living in Washington, DC, news was hard to avoid. This was the early nineties, the rise of Bill Clinton and Newt Gingrich. Articles about politics were hot. I lived on Capitol Hill. That’s what they call the neighborhood that extends east of the Washington Capitol, … Continue reading Read Less, Know Less
Months ago, I wrote a blog post called Blogging, Disabilities and Other Stuff. After I hit publish, I realized that The Other Stuff is the tile of my blog. Possibly, and unintentionally, I may have defined the other stuff. In this post, the only other stuff besides blogging and disabilities is my insecurity over whether … Continue reading Breaking out beyond my blog
“Can someone else sit up front?” This was me talking after my third Uber ride. There are loads of ways for tourists to traverse Paris. Autobus, Taxi, Batobus, Metro, marcher péniblement, and of course, Uber. We’ve utilized several of these, but when we have some distance to cover in a hurry, our go-to is … Continue reading Ubers and Scooters
Back when I was a kid… Head injury was a normal part of being a boy. Bike helmets hadn’t been invented yet, football helmets were still made of leather, and we threw bricks at each other for fun. OK, none of that’s true, bike helmets existed, but I know I never saw one until I … Continue reading TBI
It’s a riot of flowers. Fourteen years ago, with our house freshly purchased, we tore out the front garden. A massive juniper cluster, appearing like one bush—three feet high and twelve feet wide—hunkered against our front porch. The giant splotch, one color—pale green—didn’t match our vision, our esthetic. We wanted to make a statement. Not … Continue reading Bees
We glide, side by side, matching stride and pace. Silent, except for breath, the quiet thump of rubber on asphalt, simultaneous, the steady rhythm accompanied by a pattern playing in my head. Sunny and warm, a gentle tailwind matches our pace, leaving the sensation that we’re standing still, inhaling the pollen-laden air we just breathed … Continue reading Running beyond the edge of suburbia
Roz was fat. I’d like to use a nicer word, a gentler phrase—plump, stout, chubby, big-boned—she was all of those, but seriously, she was fat. When we picked her out at the shelter, that was the draw. She sat relaxed, content, like Buddha, an imperceptible smile upon her lips, watching us fool around with the … Continue reading Roz
Finally, I got a book review. Jeff, I'm about halfway through your BABWTR book, and I'm not sure I can finish it. Your attitude on pace and disparaging road running is exactly why people like me don't go to group runs, are terrified to join the trail community, and don't dare call ourselves runners. Your … Continue reading On criticism and social cues
Like any living creature, it must be fed, it must be nurtured, loved. Neglected, it dies or stagnates or shrinks which might be worse than death. This blog, like King Tut, the bearded dragon living caged in my family room, basking beneath heat lamps, bright white and scorching during the day, warm red and comforting … Continue reading Blogs don’t eat crickets
My blogging friend Angela Lawson asked me to write a guest post for her blog, You are Awesome, Trying to Stay Awake in a Sleepy World: Parenting, Leadership, and Personal Development. My post is now up on her blog. For my own blog, I wanted to write about what her request means to me. In … Continue reading Where does friendship start?
Carved into a cliff twelve miles south of Moab, Utah sits Hole N’’The Rock. That’s how it’s spelled, with a quotation mark--or maybe a pair of apostrophes--used as a separator. I don't know why. It’s a home, or it was forty-five years ago. Fifties kitsch, the real stuff, not knock off replicas, decorates the place. … Continue reading Hole N’’The Rock
I called Susan at home. “Hey, I’m going to the grocery store. You need anything?” “No, what are you getting at the grocery?” “Sausage. I’m getting my sausage for tomorrow.” Can you hear an eye-roll through a phone? I think I did. When I got home, my house was active. My workplace, a public library, … Continue reading Beating the Bonk