Month: September 2025

  • Oh, I Tried

    It’s just not going to happen today.

    Oh, I tried. I really tried. I mean I really, really tried.

    I had a plan. I had a schedule. I had goals. I had execution.

    Maybe wires got crossed. Maybe it’s because of The Rapture.

    Maybe God changed his mind, decided no on The Rapture, but yes on screwing with my day.

    Sure, I got all the stuff done for my family. Made sure that they are taken care of. I’m not an idiot; I know what my priorities are.

    I some point you have to cut your losses. Decide that a tactical retreat is the best plan of action. Live to fight for another day.

    And then, just creating something. Even a little something, is a little victory.

    A small step is still a step.

  • Thoughts While Disc Golfing (Unedited)

    Early this past Saturday morning, I got in the car and I drove north to go disc golf at Beacon Glades, which just so happens to be in Beacon, NY. It’s a free course, volunteer supported, and the place is designed around an abandoned summer camp. There is a slight “Friday the 13th” vibe, especially around the hole that are in the abandoned cabins and bunks. It’s a great place, I’ve shot it twice, and the people out there, players and volunteers, are friendly and supportive. I plan on going back again this Fall if not more often.

    Normally the kid and the wife go with me, but this weekend they wanted to stay in The City, so I went out on my own. I was a little disappointed that I was going alone, as I had looked forward to some company, but I didn’t let that hold me back. Heading out on my own did mean that I was going to be able to listen to my music in the car, and to also play it loud, and to sing off key with it.

    Depending on how you look at it, it was either wonderful late summer morning, or a crisp early Autumn day. WAZE told me it would be best to cross the George Washington Bridge and take a Palisades Parkway up to the Bear Mountain Bridge to cross back over the Hudson. The Palisades is a great drive because, even though you are cutting through northern Jersey and heavily suburban Rockland County, NY, the parkway is lined and covered with trees which makes you believe that you are cutting through the middle of the woods. Everything is still green and bright here, but if you were to look at the tops of the trees, every now and then you could make out the tiniest splash of red, orange and yellow. Autumn isn’t too far away.

    Once I crossed over the Bear Mountain Bridge, I was to take state route 9D north to Beacon. This is one of my favorite drives, as the route runs parallel to the Hudson River, and gives you a clear understanding why the Valley has been an inspiration to people for hundreds of years. It’s a pleasant drive, several curves, a tunnel and lots of hikers. The drive isn’t too long, and on the out skirts of Beacon is the disc golf course.

    Like I said, I had played Beacon Glades before, and it looked exactly the same. I had an arrived at a good time, not many people playing, and I was welcomed by two guys sitting near the first hole. Not sure if they were volunteers, or just nice guys, but they pointed me to the first hole, and let me know that the conditions were good today.

    Even when I do a little warm up, stretching and throwing some practices discs, it does take me three holes to feel like I know what I’m doing. I say that because I do shank everything to the left, and cannot throwing anything straight to save my life. I am aware that there are techniques I could follow, and other tips, but to be honest, I don’t care that much. If I shot even on the course, I’d be happy; a birdy or two would be cool, but I can honestly say that’s not why I am there. Beacon Glades is the type of disc golf course that I love because it is like hiking-lite. After the fourth hole, the course heads into the woods, going up and down the side of a hill. There is a ruggedness to this place, and I’m not implying that it’s unkept, as what I mean is that the holes work with the land, and don’t feel like they were carved out.

    For the record, I shot awful; +22. Though I did par hole 10 with one of the best putts in my life that no one saw.

    It took me a little less than two hours to complete the course, and I discovered that if I am alone throwing, I talk to myself. Not that I was having a conversation with myself, just saying things out loud, like “That was awful,” “Not bad,” and “Where did that go?” I did just enough talking to only seem a little crazy.

    Walking around the woods on that Saturday, I realized that it had been years since I had gone out and done something for myself, by myself. I think it’s been over five years, when I headed out to the beach at Bodega Bay, going to the secret parking lot that a local told me about, and just watched the surf rolling in under the slightly gray sky. Since the Pandemic, I pretty much spend every day with someone. That isn’t a complaint, I love being with my family. But I give my time to them. And when I am alone, there is always something that I need to do that occupies my time.

    Heading home, I went back the way I came. I thought about heading home in a different way – maybe drive through Sleepy Hollow. But I knew the kid would be upset if I did that without her. Maybe next weekend.

  • ODDS and ENDS: Lest we Forget, Frederick Douglass, and…

    (Many miles away…)

    Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

    Frederick Douglass had a some thoughts on free speech.

    Now the darkness only stays at night time
    In the morning it will fade away 
    Daylight is good 
    At arriving at the right time 
    But it’s not always going 
    To be this grey

  • Short Story Review: “The Pool” by T. Coraghessan Boyle

    (The short story “The Pool” by T. Coraghessan Boyle appeared in the September 22nd, 2025 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Illustration by Leanne Shapton

    Here’s an old saying that will live forever; Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. And when I hear this line, I contemplate if other words can also show sincere flattery, like – Impression, Takeoff, Parody, Sendup, Reproduction, Inspiration, or Synthesis. While reading T. Coraghessan Boyle’s “The Pool” I began to wonder how much of a debt this story owes to John Cheever’s “The Swimmer,” and should that be interpreted as a form of flattery?

    Now, I’m not the one who originally brought up Cheever. The story did it in the seventh paragraph. Also, “The Pool” is a story that is being published in The New Yorker, and that story references one of Cheever’s most famous stories, “The Swimmer” which was also published in The New Yorker. As such, the preponderance of the evidence leads me to believe that “The Swimmer” is, if nothing else, an influence on this story.

    “The Pool” is about a pool which is a part of a house that is recently purchased by the narrator/protagonist and his wife. They have two kids, and she is pregnant with their third, and final child. From the beginning of the story, there is a concern that a child may drown in the pool, and this foreshadowing comes to fruition when the narrator’s son falls into the pool at their house warming party. Thankfully the child is saved by a family friend, Malcolm, who is helping the narrator to paint the house. This near-death moment is the first of three that happen in the story; the other being a tree branch falling on the narrator’s wife, and the ending with the narrator jumping off the roof into the pool. Nothing bad happens to them, they stay lucky and safe. The same cannot be said for others in the story. Malcolm’s marriage falls apart, a baby opossum falls into the pool, and though rescued with attempts to nurse it back to health, the animal dies. In fact, there is dangerous wildlife just beyond the backyard fence, which the narrator encounters, and chooses not to tell his wife or family about. The narrator seems most concerned about drinking and staying high around his pool as the summer wains on with an almost never-ending round of pool parties at the home.

    And that brings me to my biggest rub; what to make of the narrator/protagonist? I wouldn’t go full blown and call him a narcissist, but he is rather self-absorbed. His children get very few mentions, other than saying they moved to find better schools, and that his wife’s birth control failed three times. His relationship with his pregnant wife seems to be fine, though he doesn’t show or say anything affectionate toward her even in her grand expecting state. Even the birth of their third child feels more like a footnote so the narrator can return home and continue sitting around the pool drinking with Malcolm. As the story progresses, the narrator seems to devolve into a more adolescent state. Having fun at the pool seems to be his only concern. It doesn’t lend itself to a satisfying character arc, because if this was a hero’s journey, then the journey never got started.

    Yet, I kept finding myself being pulled back to “The Swimmer” reference at the start of the story. Is “The Pool” a comment on current life in the suburbs? Is it a comment on men and their need for leisure? Or is it talking about men who fail up in life? Or is this about the aspirational attainment of “the American Dream” and how it can insulate you from the harsh realities of our modern world? I don’t know… I’m just not sure.

    I do want to add that I enjoy T. Coraghessan Boyle’s writing. Reading this story, the prose was compelling, and even urgent in places. There are moments of unease, and tension so the story, and I would say intentionally, feels as if it is settled on uneven ground. That things could shift at any moment. There are no clear lines here, but curves that the tone and themes progress on. It doesn’t follow a pattern, which is refreshing and should be acknowledged.

    I’m glad I read “The Pool” and for making me go look up “The Swimmer” as well. I can’t shake the feeling that “The Pool” is inspired and influenced by “The Swimmer” but still not sure what to make of it. I do recommend that you read it. If for no other reason than to ask, “What do you think it was about?”

  • Earworm Wednesday: It Gets Ya at the Get-Go

    It’s the first 11 seconds of the song.

    But if I may defend for a second…

    It was 1998, and a very good friend of mine let me borrow Wave of Mutilation: Best of Pixies. I knew nothing about Pixies, but as soon as I listened to that album, I pretty much played it non-stop for two months. (I will also admit that another good friend of mine tried to get me to listen to Surfer Rosa a year earlier, but it didn’t take so that doesn’t count.) The first good friend was very proud of themselves for converting me to be a Pixies fan, and my reward was him doing a spot on impression of these first 11 seconds of “Broken Face.” Not only does those 11 seconds get stuck in my head, but I can also see my friend’s face as he sung them to me – usually in his car as he drove us to a bar.