Changing the Timid Tire
“Estella looked out the window of her Miami apartment at the folding blue clouds blocking the evening’s sunset. She called her boyfriend Thelonious about an event later in the evening: “What time are leaving tonight? The weather is supposed to be worse later.”
“I’m not sure, probably around nine or nine-thirty,” Thelonious responded.
“Why so late?” Estella asked.
‘Why so late’ was a hopeful extension to tell Estella that he was not going to this event. Read more [...]
Blanche Gatto’s Baked Goods
“Remember, all entries must be mailed in before noon on March fifth. Make sure to send one dessert recipe. Then attach a brief bio of yourself, and most importantly, write on the envelope, ‘2017 Battle of the Bakers.’ The three chosen contestants will present their desserts at our St. Patrick’s Day celebration at our Market Square Pavilion. Wow, this should be interesting… the morning show sampling sweet desserts then drinking pitchers of beer with corn Read more [...]
Stephan Bailey: A Valise of Doubt
“You’ve got this all wrong,” Tim Derr said to his best friend of thirty years, Stephan Bailey who sat next to him on a stool at a tavern in Miami called, 305 Brass. “First and foremost compadre, as a person who has known you the most, and the best wingman that a guy looking for a girl could ask for—it’s not a blind date.”
“Remember when Tara and I went to an all-inclusive in Key West?” Tim asked.
“Of course,” Stephan said.
“Well, Read more [...]
A Delivery from Dorothy Jane
Black and White Movies
Big Band Music
Stories about her childhood:
The lonely air in Lowber,
No joy in Charleroi.
Met a man from Monessen,
“Virginia is for Lovers.”
Completed a Family in 1971 :
A corner house at Henry Street
In the borough of N. Belle Vernon.
I recall (those vivid 14 years)
What I want to recall …
An artist, a baker, a craft maker.
I waited for mom to watch
Black and White Movies and
Listen to Big Band Music—
Stories about my Read more [...]
Rotted Orange among the Apple Orchards
A man from Miami wearing brown sandals, drawstring tan pants and a white guayabera appeared large between dead apple orchards. Two turkey vultures pecked on his body nailed between the long grass blades with a bullet. Their beaks had been breaking his skin since the scent stirred the air of a farm field in the eight hours of his death. The body was later identified by the sister of the deceased man: Charlie Snow.
Twelve hours earlier at the Merry Mountain Read more [...]
“I’ve been weeping for a mighty long time. Yes, I’ve been weeping for a mighty long time.”
Kim Whistler sang The Five Blind Boys song as if she was in the Overtown Baptist Church choir. She sang with the harmony of happiness and claps of praise. But she was three blocks and one little boy from the church. Her voice bounced off the inside of the boat as the acoustics allowed the sadness to sink into the old sea worn wood of a boat, forty feet in length.
In this neighborhood Read more [...]
Azucar in the Guest House
“Sarita, I have a large package for you,” said Garcia the mailman. “I can tell by your obvious expression, this must be very important to you.” He hands her the box along with a few pieces of mail.
“Gracias Señor Garcia,” she responds looking at the address with a smile.
“I can smell your abuella is preparing dinner, please tell her I said hello.”
“Si, Señor Garcia, I will tell my grandmother when I go inside.”
Sara, or Sarita as she is known Read more [...]
The Three Months of August
Ten years after the death of America's greatest playwright, August Wilson, we continue to view his social timeline called the 'Pittsburgh Cycle' a masterpiece.
The Three Months of August is based on the perspectives of the ‘Pittsburgh Cycle’ and my personal consequences of a cycle that entailed: separation, divorce, and death. In this matter, Wilson’s ten plays paralleled the pivotal periods of a difficult situation yet provided me with solace to abscond Read more [...]
“Oh C’mon man...are you kidding me...I can’t even enjoy a lunch break.”
“I’m coming!” Jack screamed as he rushed through the garage to the gas pumps of the Sparrow service station in Belle Vernon, Pennsylvania.
“Ok, that’s enough,” he said under his breath.
There are no vehicles at the two gas pump islands. Just a scrawny kid named Anthony on his white and blue BMX bike. Anthony laughed from the top of his lungs at a nearby parking Read more [...]