Originally published August 15, 2014 on undercrust.blogspot.com a few days after Robin Williams died. For years, I had a boss that I really didn't like. Ed was funny and capable, but selfish. He treated his family like crap. Married with two small boys, he spent every weekend on overnight beach and camping trips with his … Continue reading Robin Williams
Creative Nonfiction
Mayonnaise Vignette
Mayonnaise: the cringiest of condiments. A squirt of ketchup, a spreading of relish, but a glob of mayo. Its power is undeniable, though. It takes a burger to a different level. The step up from a Big Mac to a Whopper is more of a climb, best likened to rungs on a ladder: straight up, … Continue reading Mayonnaise Vignette
When decorations get disturbing
Susan walked in our house last night, pissed. “That house around the corner with all the body bags in their Halloween graveyard now has a girl hanging from a tree. Hanging! Like a suicide or a lynching.” “Maybe they're going for a gallows scene?” I tried to lighten the conversation. God, she was pissed. Running … Continue reading When decorations get disturbing
Amber Alert
Central Virginia, 1981, I rode shotgun-once-removed. JD sat in the front passenger seat due to his status as the driver’s roommate, I tucked in behind him for our three-hour trip. Scott drove us home for winter break. Scott, or Checks as we called him based on his propensity to bounce them, only stuck around that … Continue reading Amber Alert
Ophelia
Is it irony that the post tropical depression stalled above Gettysburg is named after a literary character who drowned? When the rain started this morning, I folded a blanket and draped it over the armchair in my sunroom. Having a sunroom, does that sound snooty? Is it on par with a billiards room or a … Continue reading Ophelia
Heirloom
To call it a family heirloom might be overreach, but undeniably, its history was cool. Six kids wore the onesie for a month or two over fourteen years at the end of the last millennium. Children grow so fast in those early days, what fit last week is often stretched this week for one final … Continue reading Heirloom
Driven
Not Me I’m a lousy driver. With this statement, I’m also an anomaly. Eight of ten American men rank themselves better than average behind the wheel. If I volunteer myself as below average, I must really suck. Years ago, I fancied myself skilled. I planned my lane-changes for optimal efficiency, moving twice the speed of … Continue reading Driven
RBF
Resting Bitch Face—I first heard this four or five years ago. My blogger friend Robyn used the term, talking about herself. She didn’t use the RBF acronym; she used the whole phrase. Thank God she did. I think that’s the last time I ever heard anyone say it. Just in time too. Ever since, and … Continue reading RBF
Legs
I have attractive legs. No really, I do. I’ve heard it all my life. Hey, nice legs! In high school, twiggy and immature, maybe I wasn't a loser, I had friends after all, but I needed binoculars to even see the popular crowd. I stayed after school one afternoon to run stairs. That’s not as … Continue reading Legs
Date Night at the Grocery
Susan and I like to grocery shop together. Is that weird? We sit in our family room, hot because our wall of windows faces south. Sun pours in at a steep angle, creating a swath of light, a two-foot-wide space heater where we don’t need one—not in August. Skylights let in three extra splashes of … Continue reading Date Night at the Grocery
A River Runs
They say a river runs through it. “Hrumph,” you say, “hardly a river, more like a wash. Sometimes it even runs dry.” We moved into the house at the end of March after a hefty renovation. Walls moved, hardwood laid, bookshelves built-in where a closet once stood. No, I didn’t do the work. My part … Continue reading A River Runs
Alone in a Crowd
I encountered someone with Tourette Syndrome last week—I think. Their tics, facial twitches, were subtle. I stared too long and probably got caught. Still unsure, I stared some more. Once I decided I had it right, I wanted to walk over and say “Hey, me too! Tell me your story.” Susan said “Don’t, it’s none … Continue reading Alone in a Crowd
Numb
A forty-year memory is a dicey thing. You remember the stories you’ve told yourself rather than the actual events. Things get embellished, things get blocked depending on your needs. In my case, I think, blocked. I've banished memories, painful and embarrassing. Alcohol adds an extra curtain, a sheer one, not quite opaque. Another layer to … Continue reading Numb
Chad
My apologies to anyone named Chad. I don't write much about my relationships prior to meeting Susan. Possibly I subconsciously think these stories aren't interesting, but more likely it's a defense mechanism. If I don't write about past girlfriends, they won't write about me. Although Stacey, who I dated unseriously for only eight months, has … Continue reading Chad
Vomit Draft
I started writing about the weather. Really just the temperature. I thought I could craft a whole essay on what temperature is considered most perfect. The one Goldilocks would love. Seventy degrees, not too hot, not too cold. But then I started thinking about how Americans are just about the only people who use the … Continue reading Vomit Draft
Cheesy Western all the way
During my four years in college, among the hundreds of party nights, countless nights ended with a trip to the “T.” On the far side of downtown Lynchburg, just before Fifth Street crosses the James, a divey burger joint clings to the edge of a cliff. Saturday night, between midnight and two, when not passed … Continue reading Cheesy Western all the way
Eight Ways to Improve Your Writing*
Six months ago, my career as a mountain bike coach ended with a sloppy tumble over the handlebars. My coaching stint was on its final lap anyway, this was Eli’s sunset season on the team. Now he’s building his own cadre of riding partners as a budding adult. And I got an extra forty-five days … Continue reading Eight Ways to Improve Your Writing*
Davey Fend
At what age are memories reliable? We lived on Ridge Road from ’67 to ’70, just four short years, but loaded with memories. Moving away in third grade helps me pinpoint my earliest memories to that house. I have a few that predate our tiny brick Bethesda, Maryland home, but those memories are snippets, snapshots. … Continue reading Davey Fend
Stewing Poison
Spewing poison. Do you know this phrase? It came to mind riding home from the doctor’s office tonight. I’m spewing poison! My mood sucked. Bad vibes leaked from my pores. Susan kept reaching over to hold my hand, not talking because I didn’t want to talk, not talking because she didn’t want to hear what … Continue reading Stewing Poison
Dead Space
I was twelve when Bad Ronald first aired. American TV network ABC played it as an afterschool special—a ninety-minute movie aimed at tweens like me. They loaded it with commercials selling cereals and toys and other TV shows I might watch later that night. I can’t remember the specifics, but I imagine a frigid January … Continue reading Dead Space
The Other Stuff 