Category: Personal Essays

A Hollow Noon

It is lunchtime, and that should be a good thing, but I do not feel much like eating. Partially that’s because of how much I had for breakfast, and partially it is because my house has mirrors in it, and I see myself in them. I look like I rarely miss meals, and possibly knock … Continue reading "A Hollow Noon"

Strange Markers (2)

At age thirteen, not much makes sense, so the young heart clings to traditions, where meaning is felt, and does not therefore need to be explained. Often, all the adults see is the confusion, which manifests itself in discontent and anger, and not the clinging, or the searching, or the questions, most of which are … Continue reading "Strange Markers (2)"

Divisions

Years ago, I learned a useful model for negotiating relationship issues, which was to separate problems into three components: (a) the facts of a situation; (b) how you feel as a result of the situation; and (c) the story you make up in your head as to why the situation exists. It is probably best … Continue reading "Divisions"

Arbitrary Robots

On Sundays — like this last one — I provide music at the church my wife is minister of; I play the piano and the organ. The church is small, but when the pandemic hit, we started broadcasting services over Facebook Live in order to reach those unable to attend, under the account attached to … Continue reading "Arbitrary Robots"

Permanence

We visited our local amusement park many times when I was a child, and I assumed (in the manner of children everywhere) that it would always be there. It isn’t. Being around my young grandchildren every day has brought this home to me: they don’t get the concept of things breaking, or breaking down. If … Continue reading "Permanence"

Not So Ok Boomer

I was born in 1962. For those of you of a demographic bent, that means I was born within the last couple years of the so-called “Baby Boom” in the US (which ended in 1964). I tend to think of all of the generational names as nonsense, part of our endless desire to simplify things … Continue reading "Not So Ok Boomer"

A Better Me

I’m 13 years old, and I like girls a lot. But they don’t like me. At all. There was then (as now) two ways of dealing with disappointment: be bitter, or get better. I vacillated between the two. I could observe around me what seemed to “work” with girls; however, most of those things seemed … Continue reading "A Better Me"