Just after our improvised family Thanksgiving, I strolled naked onto my patio and fell headfirst into our Meyer lemon tree. As I lay there in the garden, bleeding from a dozen different places on my body, Meredy crying out to me…or perhaps it was me crying to her…I had one of those realizations that had…
All posts by drice
Stoner Park
Nestled into West Los Angeles, bordered by the State streets of Missouri, Mississippi, Iowa, and Nebraska, was the wonderful world of Stoner Park…a state of its own as we were growing up. I am sure that it is a more polished recreation center now, offering par courses and yoga classes, and fenced-in toddler areas,…
Hunger Games
Meredy and I travelled to Toronto over the Thanksgiving holiday (where they had celebrated Txgiving about 6 weeks earlier) to have a visit with her sweet Mom. Joanie is 91 and is happiest in her own home, so we tend to just go with her agenda, which included watching the finals of Dancing With…
Brothers
The calls came late in the evening and very early morning An old friend gone, and then another Half a continent apart Joined only by memories Echoes of music and laughter Terry, my first friend in second grade Holding hands in the playground Exploring the mysteries of WLA on bikes; Bill singing folk tunes…
Somehow it has all come down to this
Somehow it has all come down to this Long dog walks in the mornings The garden in early light Memories that rise and fall like June fog along the coast A finch at the feeder, now two An unknown rustling in the nearby grass Earth running through fingers as I engage the hopeful art of…
Hit Parade
The year was 1957 and I was new to St. Monica’s. Our move from WLA to a nicer house in Santa Monica, where I could abandon the service porch bed I had known for 8 years and actually have a room of my own, was bittersweet. I had to start a new school without Terry,…
The Pace of Things
Swift things are beautiful: A dog along the surf, A growing child (all too) Springtime, in its budding and flowering And sudden storms, And childhood (did I say childhood?), And a year in my life these years. Slow things are beautiful: Sunday mornings Long morning walks, Eventual happiness and self-acceptance, The way that the heart…
The Joy of Cooking
Cooking existed as a mystery to me until I was fully an adult. As a growing boy, I was never asked, nor did I show the mildest interest in learning to cook. As far as I knew, my father did not cook either(nor did any uncle or grandfather) and the lot of…
Playing it forward
My parents were immigrants. They landed on Ellis Island without an invitation. Everyone lived together in a boarding house in Detroit. After my folks met and married, we all moved together, aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents, to the same building in West LA., where I spent my first five years. I slept in the…
Shotgun
Pat had a VW. Tim had a cool, red, ’57 Chevy convertible. McGee had a corvette. Thom, a flaming orange ’57 Chevy. I had a choice between my mother’s pink ’57 Olds or my Dad’s black ‘60 Cadillac. So I mostly rode with friends. Now the Caddy was sweet in its way. It had those…