Happy 43rd Birthday to My Oldest Son…

Joshua – 1977…
You probably don’t remember that day. Even for me it now seems like it was another universe. It was your first birthday. We called Fort Ord California home and, as it was with most Army families, we were as penniless as the winos down along the banks of the Salinas River. Your mother baked you a chocolate cake from a .29 cent box mix and decorated it with some homemade icing. We stripped you down to your diaper and sat you in your highchair while we sang birthday songs to you. You laughed as you crumbled your cake into oblivion.

Clotheslines…


Old people complain nowadays about how social media takes away a person’s privacy. They say that nothing is sacred or secret anymore. It’s too easy for anybody to voice their opinions by simply touching their finger to the glass screens of their artificial lives. As my mother would always tell us, “You don’t air your dirty laundry in public.”
But back in the day, if I farted on one side of town, she knew about it before the smell had faded away. And what is less secret than having your underwear flapping around in the wind for everybody to see.

100 Word Sunday – A Night Drive

Driving down country roads. Rocks and rubber singing in harmony. Rows of brown corn flash by and disappear behind us. You tune the radio and the melodies form images in our brains. We’re ready to Drift Away on the Midnight Train to Georgia. Your Killing Me Softly with your closeness. I whisper Give Me a Little Love, you sing Dream On. Later, lying on the hood, the warmth from the engine against our backs we stare at the stars in the sky as they dance to the rhythm of Diamond Girl. The radio croons Let’s Get it On.