I still miss you. Not the old mean guy. That wonderful father of my youth. He of the picnic suppers at the beach, that superhero who cooked steak and chicken and played mandolin beside his kindling campfire. Told us the same ghost stories, we got the same spooky chills,  then we sang all the favorite songs….weekend after summer, year upon year.    Daddy?      Goddamit, I loved you.   Continue reading Daddy

Popcorn Balls

October gets me thinking about 1960s Halloween in Home Acres. There was no better or spookier a place for trick or treating as a kid. The winding dark streets, sloping hills and hidden ravines lit only by the warm harvest moon. Our neighbor Pete Cronk, concealed inside a leafy tree, on stilts, jumps out as we approach his door. We scream with fear and delight. There’s a rumour of popcorn balls available at a house way up on Ternez Drive. We trudge up the steep street, fueled by anticipation of that special, gooey prize. Continue reading Popcorn Balls


we travel limitless galaxies parallel paths future past  present. sans dimension: gravity-free awake?   dreaming? our warped and bending spacetime connects everything at once: death, birth, love, longing (you and me) journeying transcendent timezones.                A continuous loop                                      of boundless hope. Continue reading TimeZones

Missing the Road

My husband accepted a job offer. That was 2 months ago. He loves being back to work. I miss our adventures. Exploratory travels. For 2 years we roamed and discovered. It was exciting. And scary. Risky and fun. Now I make dinner and wait for him to return each day. I watch Judge Judy at 4 and 4:30. I walk the dog at 6 a.m. and 5 p.m. Rome, Paris, Morocco and Mexico are daydreams I replay between commercials. Continue reading Missing the Road

The Men (and women) That Don’t Fit In by Robert W. Service

There’s a race of men that don’t fit in, A race that can’t stay still; So they break the hearts of kith and kin, And they roam the world at will. They range the field and they rove the flood, And they climb the mountain’s crest; Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood, And they don’t know how to rest. Continue reading The Men (and women) That Don’t Fit In by Robert W. Service

Jeanine at 71

She has been wandering for hours, pulling the trembling pinscher on his red cord leash, asking for directions to a life long past. Breathless with adventure and confusion: “let’s go have coffee”; “I can’t remember my apartment number” and, “when my John died the lawyers stole the house”. The little pinscher watches patiently. Lovingly. Jeanine wears a jaunty knit cap. Her brown eyes twinkle as she speaks of Ecuador and Germany. She’s lonely among these tall concrete structures and youthful strangers. I make helpful suggestions. Jeanine ignores them. This lady is lost. I must call the police. Her eyes die at their arrival. … Continue reading Jeanine at 71

My nickname was “The Roadrunner”

“The RoadRunner” When I was growing up in the 60’s-70’s, my nickname was “The Roadrunner”. Neighbors and friends saw me traipsing down the road, barefoot usually, every day. I was invariably headed over to play at a friend’s house. Often, we friends would then walk to “The Little Store”. It was, alas, the only store. And, yes, it was quite small. There were, however, plenty of penny candies for sale in the front case. Since we only had a few pennies, the store owner would take pity on us and give us extra pieces of the tootsie rolls or taffy. … Continue reading My nickname was “The Roadrunner”