When April started I had big plans to blog every day like the glory days of the 200 project. I did really well for three days. Then something happened. Something else probably happened, and then…
Posts tagged RIP
Three Scenes From My Life with a Tom Petty Soundtrack
Scene 1: 1996 A bright, sunny day in August, most of my family is huddled under the trees in a small, family cemetery on McColl Road in Savage. They’ve close the road because there are…
In Memory of Paco (1998-2017)
I thought I was ready. Paco’s health had been dwindling for three years. He was the kind of scrawny that made people wince when they looked at him. Petting him was no fun because he…
Writing My Obit Before Dying of Rage
Colleen McCullough, the woman who wrote The Thorn Birds died today. This is the lead paragraph from her obituary in The Australian: Colleen McCullough, Australia’s best selling author, was a charmer. Plain of feature, and…
Missing Maya
At Family Dinner on Monday I recounted my cleaning the loft exploits to my family, rattling off the treasure trove of old ticket stubs I discovered in a pencil box. “Pearl Jam, R.E.M, Warped Tour,”…
The Ritual of Mourning
I have discovered two things about myself since Uncle George died. 1.) I have a mourning routine. 2.) I am a person who needs the closure of a funeral/service/wake. My routine seems to involve spending…
In Memory of Uncle George
My Uncle George died last night of a heart attack. In that picture up there, a picture of a Polaroid from Christmas 1982, he’s the one with the glasses. My mom scrawled “Mom kids” on…
Nelson Mandela’s Death Makes Me Think of That One Time I Got an A+
I was sitting right here cracking my knuckles, rolling my shoulders, licking my chops, and generally getting ready to write what was no doubt going to be a witty and incisive response to Lorde Sounds…
I went to Google & all I got was this crummy obituary
All I have are his name on my birth certificate and two fuzzy pictures from 1971. I keep those photos in my copy of David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest. I have for years. There’s no…
A fitting tribute
“Does it make you uncomfortable when I cry?” I asked Jaycie and Max who were sitting on the couch. “Yeah,” Max shook his head until his curls bounced. “A little.” “I’m sorry,” I said. “But…