Last night there were fireworks in the rain for the last game of the season for the Portland Timbers — our professional soccer team. The season ended with a tie between the Timbers and the San Jose Earthquakes. I wasn’t at the game. And, true confession, I didn’t know about it. But the sound was enormous for 20 minutes or more. My imagination ran the gammut, but I remembered my friend Dia… Read More
“I heard from the Idol people. I’m goin’ to LA in October!” Mr. Prude was at the bus stop Tuesday morning. “I went right to the Western Union office and sent my mom a telegraph. Next thing I know my phone was ringing and she was saying, ‘I knew you could do it!’” So this is how the story of Mr. Prude was unfolding for me. Here was a man I took… Read More
Obama released his birth certificate. Kate and William finally walked the aisle. Then the phone rings yesterday. One of my dearest of dears doesn’t know what to do. She is a hair’s breadth from ending it all. They are unmistakable when they show up, these things that are more important. Yesterday, regarding this week’s focus on the part of the news media Dan Rather said Come on, gang. Really? or something to… Read More
Back in the 2000, my friend Amy Schutzer published a novel she titled Undertow http://www.calyxpress.org/books.html. She considered another title: What Version of the Truth Do We Tell? I’ve just finished the first draft of 100 Voices: Americans Talk about Change. Really! The first draft toward publication in September, 2011. That’s amazing enough, but the reason I mention it here has to do with truth. It has to do with the incredible candor… Read More
I don’t remember exactly the year. Maybe it was 1979. Probably summer, but more likely spring since summer in Baton Rough, LA can be beyond the capacity of all but its own hearty inhabitants to survive. There was the protection of the stately oaks dripping with Spanish moss. Whatever the season it was mild enough to leave untroubled the breathlessly fine fabrics and careful protocol involved to make the wedding as glitteringly… Read More
I’m not sure the first time I realized this day, March 4, is the only day of the year that doubles as a poem. Poetry is, by nature an illusive combination of feeling and fact. It is mysterious, powerfully so. It is anchored in words, also pretty imprecise when it comes down to it. There is certainly reality in it; otherwise poetry would never catch our attention at all, but it’s bigger… Read More
Walking south on NE 28th Ave. under my new umbrella (the other one blew out in yesterday’s storm), I came to the corner at Flanders St. A man in full raingear – the heavy orange plastic stuff – stood on tiptoes behind an enormous canvass sign. The sign was as orange as the man. Although a square, it was situated as a diamond to warn oncoming traffic of the roadwork ahead. The… Read More
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