Playing With Fire

Playing With Fire

Creator of my own world

At The Airport

Man writing at a desk. Fire burning in the background.

I hadn’t been traveling much. What with the pandemic and everything. Staying at home was not so much a choice as a necessity. But here I am, hustling through airports again, looking at gates with departures to places I once…

Benefactors

Man writing at a desk. Fire burning in the background.

I had a lot of help growing up. God knows I needed it. Uncles, Aunts, Grandparents, family friends, my mother’s boyfriend and eventually the man who would become her second husband and my step-father. They filled in a lot of…

Juliet

She’d been going through the box that had come in the mail from his unit. It had taken several weeks and by this time she was numb to the idea that their only son, indeed their only child was gone.…

Walking and Running

Walking and running are not just a means of locomotion for me, although, growing up in New York City, I have a walking gene. All of us, my extended family have the same gene. Short answer: I walk every day,…

Food Anger

“If you screw up a dish bad enough, just serve it anyway and call it ‘Chicago Style’.” – Anonymous “Why are you so angry?” My much younger co-worker, whom I generally admire asked me. We were in a chat group…

But Does It Edify?

Man writing at a desk. Fire burning in the background.

“Edifying: instructive or informative in a way that improves the mind or character.” “But does it edify?” He let his voice rise with each syllable as he pronounced it. Then he looked at the audience, waiting while it sunk in.…

Man writing at a desk. Fire burning in the background.

What are your top ten favorite movies? North By Northwest White Christmas The Gallant Hours Bringing Up Baby Gettysburg Addams Family Values Casablanca Apollo 13 Christmas Vacation The Best Years Of Our Lives

Stuff

A wooden duck. A tin man paddling a canoe. Photographs, a clock, a plate from China, a train set. They all mean something. They’re more than just material stuff. When I look at these things synapses fire, memories flood. So…

Ice Cream Cake

“What the hell is THIS?” roared Uncle Harry. Aunt Leonia waved dismissively, “you know damned well it’s an ice cream cake.” “For crissakes, when I want cake I want cake when I want ice cream I want ice cream!” Harry…

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