In The Cigar Box

The splash is small as though a scalpel sliced sharply through the surface.  In an instant, the young bald eagle lifts away from the pond’s shore like an F-18 in a steep climb but as silent as the wind.  The little bass plucked from the pond wriggled slightly as he was lifted toward the aerie where the eagle nested and would soon enjoy his meal.  Brown, white and black feathers blended to cover his body let us know that he hadn’t grown to adulthood when his head and tail feathers would turn to white and complete his iconic image.  Above the pond the two adults, probably mother and father, watched from their perch high in the trees left leafless by winter.  Occasionally they would fly and soar over the pond and the tree covered bluffs that surround it.  Majestic is the word.  Every other adjective falls short when a bald eagle circles above the feeding fields, swooping through altitude and gauging his drift when buffeted by icy winds. That was...

When the Big Designer was working out genetics, why do you suppose that it was necessary to only program certain people to be able to tie a respectable bow on a package or twist the tresses of a daughter into passable pigtails?  The fact of the situation is undeniable.  There are two kinds of people in the world – those who can wrap a pretty package and those who ought to use the holiday bags; those who can make a little girl’s hair presentable for a school photo and those who should have simply called the principal and declared his daughter too ill to attend class that day.  Genetics are at the root of the malady. The year was 1977.  It was spring and while the specific date escapes me, it was near the end of the school year so probably in April or May.  Winnie was ill and remained in bed to fight off a bad bout of flu or one of the other bugs that visits us all from time to time.  It was school picture day and this was the first school picture for J...

Under the hobby table in a corner of the basement is where I stored it.  She had only used it for three months before that aggressive liver disease claimed her body.  Her 80 pounds were well supported and the bolster gave her the chance to prop her head into her favorite sleeping position.  In a corner made by my nightstand, the wall and the bed is where she had slept for years.  The new bed was meant to comfort her aging bones and it fit perfectly in her spot next to me.  On that rainy day two Junes ago, I moved her bed to a spot under the hobby table.  I couldn’t let it go nor look at it sitting empty beside my bed. If Pup, the greatest dog ever in the world, had had a son, I think she would have wanted him to answer to the name Zip.  She would have wanted him to be an exuberant lad who could play as long as the kids around him wanted to run and chase, throw and fetch.  She would have taught him to be a gentle soul whose calling was to alw...

Stacked three high, body upon body upon body, the design capacity of our Flexible Flyer was being tested on Suicide Hill – because remember the greater the weight, the greater the speed.   We shed bodies through the turns, bumps and jumps with only Gerry making it to the bottom still on the sled.   Jack was off in seconds; I made it half way down.   Part of the game was the older boys trying to shed the younger ones while the younger clung to anything they could to ride the Flyer all the way to the bottom.   Brookside Boulevard bisects the city north to south and between 55th and 57th streets in a pocket park there is a hill that drops about 40 or 50 feet down to Brookside.  That hill earned its name because of the choice of runs to test your nerve, the hazards that'll test your judgment or the number of ways to answer a double dare.   Trees, moguls, and icy patches test the skill and the sanity of every sledder.   All too often the ...