My first year in journalism revolved around writing up crime briefs and obituaries for the Camden Courier Post. For most reporters tasked with writing the obits, it was considered a formulaic chore. A Mass of Christian Burial will be celebrated for … A purple heart awarded for injuries suffered on the Normandy beaches during the…
On this day, 40 years ago, August 26th, 1979, my family stepped off a plane at JFK. On the way to our new hometown, Sparta, NJ, my father insisted we stop at the base of the World Trade Center towers. He was awed by the towers. And they were terrific, sure, but, coming from the…
I am resting. Watch. I am fluttering, you follow. Be wise when you chase.
What color are you? It depends on the light, no? Our hooks are in the mud.
Precious is you.Jade, ruby, amber opals.A fiend tugs within.
How my latest work project evolved from a chance fish sighting.
On winter nights, the sodium street lamps cast gashing shadows. They scribble on the cobblestones and walls through cables and wires that hang like abandoned nooses. A few restaurants welcome guests but many of the cafes are shuttered. A mist settles on the plastic-framed menus hanging beside the doors. Looking through a window, two local…
To the sea you run. I am bound for now and stay. One blue and one green.
Standing riders shuffled around, equalizing the gap between themselves and everyone else.
None heard that the lines written for Hercule Poirot were delivered with a proper English tone. Nor did they care that the questions from her daughter were born of a place much closer to Kensington and Prospect Park than Kensington and Hyde Park.
I touched her hull but she barely twitched. “I am tired, hurt, and scared,” she said in a rattled whisper.
She was weighed down by generations of neglect and good intentions. She wanted to it all to be over, to be put to rest. The ice in the Hudson heard her and tried to help, only to be plucked from obliviation by good intentions once again.
Bread baking on a sailboat is more efficient using packaged yeast than maintaining a sourdough starter. But if you are looking for efficiency, you are probably not particularly interested in sailing either.
I once passed out, drunk, resting my head on the curb outside a gas station. I was kicked awake by a Sheriff’s deputy. He sent me home after I explained that I was just waiting for the store to open so I could buy a pack of cigarettes. He could have bundled me into the back…
Among boats built in the 1990s, the pun name SEAS THE DAY cracked the top 30. It was just the beginning. By the 2000s, the boozy HAPPY OURS and the medical KNOT ON CALL had joined it in the top 30. The next decade saw WHY KNOT added to the top names and why not?
Long boat projects can be daunting, especially as a live-aboard. The boat is often in a state of tumult. Dust and debris in the head, in pots and pans, in toothbrushes, hair and teeth. Between the sheets. Sometimes even in dinner.
I will allow myself to complete the work exactly on time. Which will be precisely when I am finished.
It is easy to forget that this island’s flavor would not have happened if the Spanish hadn’t decimated the Taínos and imported West African slaves to replace them.
But today each has contributed practices, rituals and DNA which has been shaken, blended and muddled into a poignant, delicious, cocktail.
I had a unexplained headache wake me late Friday night. Later, maybe I had a dream or heard an an unexpected noise, but my reflexive brain told my hand grab a spare CO detector, put the battery in, and plant it near my bunk in the aft cabin.
Wet between your toes Softly walk upon the pond Beware of below
Leaves thrust, firm and new. Breathing with callow desire. Petals rot like flesh.
Don’t confuse the day With those who see the light. A shadow cast cools.