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Monthly Archives: November 2013

The Dream

  My dream is dominated by voices. A steady hum punctuated by the lilting rise and fall of Irish brogue. All familiar, yet faceless and nameless, just voices from another room that the child hears from his bed. Lying still in the semi-darkness, eyes fixed on the streak of light and shadows funneled across the … Continue reading »

Categories: Fragments | 2 Comments


I miss album covers. For that matter, I miss paperback art as well. The fifties, damned for so many things, were a heyday for the paperback industry and a heyday for artists who could conceptualize a story on a book jacket. Of course, there were the bodice ripping covers, muscular men and swooning or terrified … Continue reading »

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On the Pacific Coast Highway, along the stretch that reaches north from the pier, an apartment house was built in the early 70’s, near the foot of the Santa Monica ramp. The name on the front read “The Sorrento Beach Grill”, in a quiet nod to history that only locals would understand. The building stood … Continue reading »

Categories: Fragments | 9 Comments


My first fly rod came to me by accident. A student, my memory calls him Jim, departed the school and left it behind. He was a memorable boy for his habitual intensity. So much so that others gave him a rather wide berth in the school. Yet, I recall him best for the night he … Continue reading »

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On the stream

There is a river that flows out of the wilderness Cut deep through rock cliff Graveled broadly from the shore And I long to stand in it To wade and cast my line and know that my life is complete Cast in the comfort of the loves that I have known In those who have … Continue reading »

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  These familiar landscapes Worked and reworked in my mind These many years. So familiar That the truth of them has long since disappeared Melting gently into the way it was Fading into their own order. I was young once, I know My life populated by faces and voices Who did not then and still … Continue reading »

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“One day standing on a river with my fly rod I’ll have the courage to admit my life to myself” Jim Harrison A long last swig of thermos coffee, some extra tippet Just in case. We step away from gravel roads And all the grating calls of civilization Into the waiting stream. Still and clear … Continue reading »

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  As far back as I can recall, I have been a reader. By the time I was in the second grade, I was addicted to comic books of every sort. Stacks of them slumped in the corners of my small room. By the fourth grade, Bluto, Uncle Scrooge, Huey, Dewey and Louie made way … Continue reading »

Categories: Fragments | 2 Comments

“The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard…”

   I sit in my garden reading, writing, the afternoon punctuated by the sound of a neighbor blowing leaves off his lawn. From the other direction I can hear a chainsaw in its spasmodic ripping and I wonder which neighborhood tree is being trimmed or taken down. Many of us move to a place like … Continue reading »

Categories: Musings | 1 Comment

Dave Suspended

We rummaged through our closet, trying to find those pictures of Dave. They were taken before our reach into the digital world, when we stuck things in albums, not folders. We remembered the walk, the climb, the rope swing. We remembered his kind interest in us, that he stopped his life because we were on … Continue reading »

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