Category: Writings

As if it was obvious, Ian told us, “When I was a meerkat, I lived in a cave.” Being a parent means fielding strange tales from tiny people. We were driving when Ian made his announcement, and he regaled us for several blocks.

After the cave, he lived in a cage on a farm. He lived with lots of other meerkats. The meerkats fought “all over each udder.” His name wasn’t “Ian”, it was something closer to “Baseball Sandwich.” (I’ve forgotten exactly what it was.)

“What did you eat as a meerkat?” I asked him.

“Um… um… um… I just forgot.”

Stumped him, I thought, feeling too proud of my dubious victory. Of course, Ian embodied this animal identity well before he was born. He was born a human boy, but anything is possible before that. Why not a meerkat?

After all, I very distinctly remember telling my parents about my past life: as a college student.

Continue reading “Tiny Perspectives on the Infinite”

Watching home videos of our childhood visit to Disney World, I realized two truths about myself. The first is that I wasn’t a very good camera operator.

I’ll admit it: the camera work is shaky and out of focus. There exist long sequences of “forgotten footage,” where I forgot the camera was recording. In the final scene, we’re entering Paramount Studios. You can hear the excitement building in our voices as we see signage for the rides we can’t wait to experience. Mid-gait, the footage stops. Whether the tape ended or the battery died, I don’t recall. All that remains is several minutes of nauseating and askew footage.

The other truth was my focus — nay, obsession — with food at Epcot. One can walk a circuit called the World Showcase wherein countries of the world delight patrons in unique but methodical slices along the avenue. On tape, you can hear as I beg my parents, passing one country after another, to allow us to stop and eat. A quick glance at the prices dissuaded any such dalliance.

I regret the camera work, but I don’t regret the food. I remember how excited I was to sample the cuisine of France or Germany, to experience the edibles of Morocco and France, to taste the trappings of Japan or the United Kingdom. Imagine my early adolescent disappointment when we left unfed.

Continue reading “My Food Addiction”

It began in Wal-mart. It was early days for Holli and I: newly married, recently Sioux Fallsian, and considering our morning beverage options in Impulse Buyer Heaven. We stood amongst the coffee, and my stomach twisted with conflict.

I had grown up with CDs (coffee drinkers), and my mother’s habits in particular had made a lasting impression on me. She would fill a large travel thermos every morning before driving the ten miles to St. Lawrence School, where she taught. Inevitably, all those days and all that distance gave way to accidents, spillage, and stains.

In my young memory, I recall scores of school papers with faint, caramel blotches marring them. I remember tote bags splattered with caffeinated Rorschach shapes. I recollect carpet and mats in our van permanently discolored.

To break the cycle, I had vowed never to drink coffee. Yet decades later, I found myself on the precipice of my own pitch-colored obsession pondering a common question.

Coffee grounds: what’s up with that?

Continue reading “Coffee Grounds: What’s Up With That?”

“TURN RIGHT ONTO 3RD STREET. YOUR DESTINATION WILL BE ON THE RIGHT.”

The stilted, robotic voice directed me into the parking lot of the Kenny Anderson Community Center, temporarily fading the voice of Ira Glass with the announcement. It was six o’clock on Monday, and I was there for a meeting of the Sioux Falls Writers Group. This was my inaugural attendance. I was anxious.

I carefully navigated into the car park, feeling out its layout. Then I saw the kids. There was a group of high schoolers playing basketball. Some younger children were walking down the sidewalk heading home after an extra-curricular. My stomach churned. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone but attendees: people with notebooks or laptops, bags quoting famous authors, eyeglasses.

I pulled into a parking space. “YOU HAVE ARRIVED AT YOUR DESTINATION,” said the woman. I pause “This American Life” and waited in the still-running vehicle measuring my breath.

That’s when I noticed the little mouse.

Continue reading “The Little Mouse”

Holli and I celebrated my 31st birthday at a local pan-Asian restaurant, which I affectionately call “Ultra Mega Buffet.” It’s been dubbed “The Largest Buffet in South Dakota,” and that could be measured by the square footage, the food selection, or the combined weight of the clientage.

My first plate was sushi; Holli’s was Mongolian grill. I retrieved my lukewarm serving of suspect seafood and waited. I played Disco Zoo. I waited so more. After Holli joined me, I folded my hands. “Should we pray?” I asked.

“Oh,” she said, surprised, “you didn’t have to wait for me.” I assured her it was no big deal. After all, I had dancing animals to tend to. We bowed our head in prayer and said our grace, unaware of the unexpected blessing we’d soon receive.

Continue reading “An Unexpected Blessing”

“Nearly Nine” is a short story I wrote for a contest on MashStories.com. I was fortunate enough to get short listed, and I was even more fortunate to win!

A big thank you, and much credit, has to go to the people who shared, commented, and voted on my story. The feedback was encouraging, and it was fun to hear people’s reactions. The win is encouraging for my future creative writing endeavors.

If you’re interested, you can read “Nearly Nine” on MashStories.com. Second place went to “Lost Balls” by Ross Baxter, and third place was awarded to Carrie Guss for “Tina, Trapped and Released”. Excellent stories, all.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to buy $100 worth of hipster writing glasses and typewriters. I’ve arrived, baby!

The show began before it began.

A small crowd of us gathered before the Belbas Theatre doors in the Washington Pavilion. Children dashed around clumps of adults from all generations. I was there with my family, eagerly awaiting “Road Closed to Pedestrians”, a mime and dance performance by Cie Macadâmes.

My interest in the show, beyond a general appreciation for art, stemmed from my relation to one of the producers, Jenny Brass. This stop was the penultimate stop on a cross-country tour for Make Theatre Company that had begun in Arizona and would culminate in the Twin Cities.

As the hour grew, ticket holders shifted from foot to foot; they looked around the room at the staff; they checked their watches and cellphones. Then a door marked “Employees only beyond this point” opened and a dark-haired woman, dressed in the bohemian rags of a stylized urchin, peered out. She crept into our midst, tightly clutching a large, beige piece of luggage. This Traveler, played by Clément Chaboche, stared at us with wide, dark eyes and cautiously plotted her way through the space.

Behind her followed a man with similar wardrobe and a bass clarinet slung around his neck. His manner was easy and casual, the opposite of the anxiety of his predecessor. He followed her as she wove through the crowd. The onlookers rearranged, like quicksilver, pooling around the ever-shifting focus.

The show had begun.

Continue reading “Road Closed to Pedestrians: A Review”