Papa was a headbanger. No, I didn’t call my father Papa, but when I wrote “Dad was a headbanger,” the Temptations song Papa was a Rolling Stone popped into my head. I needed to change what I wrote. Of course, Suzy is a Headbanger by the Ramones could have just as easily sprung up in … Continue reading Headbanger
Family
Medium Well
“Joan of Arc is alive and medium well.” My brother read this sentence out of a joke book. I was seven or eight years old. I stared at him blankly. “Funny, right?” “I don’t get it.” Exasperated: “Joan of Arc was a medium. They burned her at the stake. Get it? Cooked? Medium well?” “What’s … Continue reading Medium Well
Eulogy 2.0
Almost a month ago, I posted a story titled Eulogy written the day after my father died. While it was clearly about my father's death, it was about me more than him. Yesterday was his memorial service, and what follows is what I read. It contains element of the first piece but shifts the focus. … Continue reading Eulogy 2.0
Eulogy
When he turned seventy, we gathered in a nondescript Rockville restaurant, a long table in a windowed annex, tall potted ferns decorated the space. His wife Diane, her kids, my brothers David, Dana, our spouses and me. Those who had children brought them. My father made a speech, wrapping it up with “I hope to … Continue reading Eulogy
Heartache
It's a heartacheNothing but a heartacheHits you when it's too lateHits you when you're down -- Lyrics from It's a Heartache by Bonnie Tyler In 1978, my family broke tradition. Instead of renting our standard fourplex apartment in the sleepy 132nd block of Ocean City, Maryland, we stayed in a beachfront apartment in a high-rise … Continue reading Heartache
Memory Box
A souvenir glass from a Brickskeller beer tasting, German Doppelbocks, the same night America bombed Iraq. Operation Desert Storm, they called it, but I didn’t know this until the morning paper arrived. Still wet from my shower as I primped to head out for the night, I saw on TV that the attack had started. … Continue reading Memory Box
Negative Space
First I searched Google, and later Bing. ‘Crow graphic with negative space.’ I’m planning a tattoo. I have a thing for crows. A year ago, I went on a spree—three stories about crows in two months—the one I killed, the stuffed animal from college, the one that said 'hello.' I Killed a Crow | Crows … Continue reading Negative Space
Slowdown Throwdown
My salvage operation of undercrust.blogspot.com continues. Today, just posting a link to YouTube. Thursday, September 4, 2014 Eli, aka DJ-E, has taken the Hannah Montana country-pop classic Hoedown Throwdown and slowed it down by 30%. The resulting song, The Slowdown Throwdown is fantastic. I think this pays nice tribute to Cyrus' voice because it does … Continue reading Slowdown Throwdown
Food Fight
In the Washington Post today, I saw an article stating that beginning December 1, Google would start deleting dormant accounts. I have one of those. My first blog was published on Google's blogging platform Blogspot. There are a few posts on that blog I don't want to lose, so over the next week, I'm going … Continue reading Food Fight
Boba
“Number twenty-eight?” Sophie and Susan approached the counter. Each grabbed two drinks. Sophie passed one to me. “How do you know this one is coconut? They look the same.” “The guy said so.” I never ordered a boba tea before. I’ve tasted my kids’ teas on a couple of occasions. Too bitter, nothing I would … Continue reading Boba
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
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
Sugar
After our first two months of dating, Susan and I drove to Erie to meet her family. Her brother was home from college for winter break, and her sister came in for the weekend. The drive was rough. Susan and I spent three and a half hours creeping out of Washington DC in a heavy … Continue reading Sugar
The Meaning of a Shriek
Our house was seventies suburban, solid hardwood floors but with drywall so thin I once punched a dent in it during an uninspired attempt to show my dad a bit of emotion. Each morning my father awoke early for work. He started every day with a shower. Everyone else had an extra hour to sleep, … Continue reading The Meaning of a Shriek
Grave Thoughts
“I dunno, maybe scatter my ashes up in Michaux.” That’s Michaux State Forest. When I think of the most peaceful place in my life, Michaux’s got to be it. Once, the beach topped my list, but now I believe peace is synonymous with solitude, and there’s just too many people on the beach. Plus, I … Continue reading Grave Thoughts
Jellybeans
On Thursday morning, a swollen inter-department mailer sat in my mailbox at work. Are you familiar with these? It’s an envelope, ten by thirteen inches, brownish-gold, the color of dehydrated urine. You seal it by twisting a string around a fastener. It’s not for stamped postal mail, my name is simply scrawled on the envelope … Continue reading Jellybeans
Treasure
I don’t even know what to call it. A board? A plank? A tabletop? None of these do it justice. None implies the shear heft of this chunk of wood. I found it early on, exploring my new neighborhood, looking for idiosyncrasies or treasures in the alleyway behind my house, a hidden thoroughfare whose primary … Continue reading Treasure
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
The Other Stuff 