All posts in Fragments

The Pratt trailhead is about .5 miles from my house. A rocky moderate climb of another .5 mile or so used to bring a morning hiker to a picnic table which was tucked under a small tree, where one could sit and enjoy a view of the Ojai Valley. It was a great place to…

I grew up in a family of three sisters, but I once had a brother. Brian was eight months older than I… my first cousin actually, son of my Mom’s sister, Greta. When we were just old enough to develop memories, Brian was there, living across the court in one of those one-story, U-shaped California…

  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…

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…

  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…

I grew up a son among daughters; one older sister, two younger. Within the world of our family, the inclusive world that we shared with cousins and aunts and uncles and relatives of indefinite connection, there were other circles of existence that were equally exclusive. The adult world beyond the borders and just out of…

  Neighborhoods no longer have alleys. I am not sure when this practice stopped, but when I was growing up on the west side of LA, alleys seemed to be the norm. Of course they were handy, acting as sort of a service bay for homes, sporting trashcans, garages, and boats, but they also offered…

  “In the sun that is young once only Time let me play and be Golden in the mercy of his means” D. Thomas   The year was 1955, Ike was finishing his first term and LA was a world waiting to be explored. On a Saturday morning, once we were up and fed, my…

I had a cord of wood delivered last week: nice aged oak, cleanly split and stacked. It pleases me to see it all the side of my driveway. There was a time when a cord of wood would have been a great luxury. The house that we purchased when we first came to the valley…

  This morning, quite early, I woke to the sound of a wind chimes softly ringing in our arbor, but there was no wind. I rose and stood bare footed (and bare assed) at the sliding door to our yard and looked to the trees, which were still. Perhaps I imagined it. The chimes are…