Category: Life

  • Another Rainy Monday

    Another Rainy Monday

    You know, exactly two weeks ago, I was sitting at home on a rainy Monday, writing about it being a rainy Monday.

    And it’s another rainy Monday.

    Just like I did two weeks ago, I pushed through the wet weather, and did the family laundry. It’s a chore that I agreed to; my part of the deal in being the stay-at-home dad. It’s not my favorite thing to do, but needs to be done. I folded laundry while watching MST3k on PlutoTV. The act made me want to take a nap, and gave me pause to reevaluate my conclusion on the latest season of the show. Perhaps I was too critical.

    The sky is still gray, but the rain has subsided. The temp is mid-forties, and I have a sweater on. I should be reading a book.

    Or I should be contemplating about the coming of Spring?

    Or I should contemplate the strange desire I have to put on shorts, but still wear a sweatshirt? That look, it makes me think of New England Summers. It warm and cool at the same time. It might get up to 76, but when the sun sets, it drops down into the 50’s. That sounds like an ideal summer to me.

    Yet, to get there, Summer that is, I have to make it through this Spring. And it is Spring around here. All the trees have started to bud, and the daffodils have popped out in the parks. It even feels a little more upbeat around the neighborhood. Like a slightly better mood, or maybe people are being optimistic to the change in season.

    For now, I have a gray sky and an under-construction condo-tower to look at. I would like that nap, but I have to get the kid from school, so no rest for the lazy.

  • ODDS and ENDS: Dog Haircut, Covid Conscious, and Just Doing What I’m Doing

    (They tried to kill him with a forklift…)

    My dog needs a haircut. Some might call that grooming, but I find that word problematic; grooming. She gets a cut every three months, so being that we just crossed into April, we’re right on schedule. Yet, the dog is hairier and shaggier than she has ever been. And she stinks. The wife does bathe the dog regularly, but the hair is so long, it just traps in the smell. I guess what I am really saying is that the dog is a mess. And she knows it. She looks at us, at least I assume as the hair covers her eyes, in a most pitiful fashion, saying, “Please sir and madam, may I have a haircut?” Again, that’s an assumption.

    The wife has Covid. Not very server, more like a mild flu. I’m taking care of her, and making sure she’s resting and being taken care of. Sadly, I didn’t get my Covid vaccine this year, so I have set myself up for a possible infection. If I’m still healthy by Sunday, then I know for sure that I am in the clear. As such, I’m being very cautious and conscious of my contact with other people. Mainly, this is my excuse for not going to the gym this whole week. You gotta be safe, and I like having an extra hour to drink coffee on the couch while watching DREW.

    So… the world might be going to hell or ending soon; who can tell these days. For that reason, I’m just going to keep doing what I’m doing. I’m not giving up, and I will still see you at the March.

  • Short Story Review: “Marseille” by Ayşegül Savaş

    (The short story “Marseille” by Ayşegül Savaş appeared in the April 7th, 2025 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Illustration by Virginie Morgand

    Old friends are the best friends you can have! There, I said it, and I am willing to die on this completely uncontroversial hill! See, I know that my old friends, some that I have known since grade school, have made my life better, funnier, and have given me perspective in immeasurable ways. Mainly because we have grown older together. Reading “Marseille” by Ayşegül Savaş reminded me of the virtues of having old friends.

    Here’s an Overly Simplistic Synopsis: Amina, who recently had a baby, goes out for a weekend in Marseille with two of her old university friends, Alba and Lisa.

    I try to keep an open mind, and not to jump to conclusions when I start reading a story, but by the time I made it to the third paragraph, and read that this was going to be a story about three old friends going away for a weekend, the cliché and trope sirens started going off in my head. And I can admit that I was totally wrong for doing that. Though, I feel that this “red herring” of a situation was part of Ayşegül Savaş’ plan all along, lulling us in to the story.

    The story’s opening paragraph describes how Amina and her husband have been trying to give each other space and time away from each other, in an attempt to reclaim their lives, “which had been on hold since the baby was born.” So, from the start, the premise of the work is reclaiming one’s self, even after change has occurred. And as we follow Amina and her friends around for these few days, that theme is repeated, in which change is coming, or has already occurred.

    And Ayşegül Savaş handles this theme very smartly. Again, so many times this story could have fallen into the land of middle-aged people tropes, but it never goes there. For one reason, our three characters aren’t that old, perhaps just entering into their thirties. The other way this theme is handled well is that Amina comes into contact with three women, two in the setting of the story and one as a memory, over the stretch of the piece; the first is a new mother on the train out to Marseille, the next is an older woman that explains that desire goes aware after giving birth but will return, the third is a young woman on the ferry ride. It’s as if Amina encounters her present self, her future self, and her past self – these interactions don’t represent warnings of the future, or regrets of the past, but are more like mile posts signaling the changes that happen in life. But what I appreciated most that this was a story about three friends who discover that they have changed by getting older, and still remain friends.

    In the end, “Marseille” is a story about that moment that we all know is coming – that moment when we get the first hint that we aren’t young anymore.

  • That Guy “Dan” from High School

    I went to high school with this guy, let’s call him Dan. We weren’t really friends, such as we didn’t hang out after school, but we hung in parallel social groups, and if we had a class together, we sit near each other so we could crack jokes and pass the time. He was very tall and lanky, but with no athletic coordination or maybe he didn’t like sports, so he preferred to be an outsider, but with his height, you couldn’t miss him. He was soft spoken, real dry sense of humor, and he was the type of guy you’d see reading Naked Lunch or The Bell Jar. He was smart, but a slacker, and he carried himself like a 90’s neo-hippie, you know, he looked like he was in The Spin Doctors.

    Dan had a thought or an opinion on just about everything. I had read about it somewhere, is what he would say when he had some knowledge that covered a rather arcane subject. But music, that was his big thing. I was, and still am for that matter, a huge Beatles fan which Dan was as well. He told me, that one day my music taste would evolve – not that I would stop liking The Beatles – but I would follow down the path of enlightened music enjoyment. He said that I would start with The Beatles, then in a few years I would be all about Led Zeppelin, and that I would end with Pink Floyd. I didn’t think too much of it, but his idea did stay in the back of my mind.

    I graduated and went away to college, for a reason I have forgotten, I bought “Physical Graffiti,” and I got hooked on Led Zeppelin. Somewhere, hiding in the back of my mind where I placed it, I envisioned Dan sitting Lotus style, hand raised to heaven, surrounded by a cloud of pot smoke, smiling and nodding at me – “You have attained the next level” he imparted on me. The truth is that I did start on a path of deep diving into all things Led Zeppelin. Got all the albums, hunted down rare “B” sides, read biographies, even did a sad stint of trying to learn how to play their songs… that didn’t go well.

    Then, jump ahead three years, and I have dropped out of college and am working at a pizza delivery place in my home town. Who should happen to come in and get a job at that pizza place? Why, it’s Dan! It didn’t take him long to scope out my car, which had three band stickers on the back window; The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, and Nirvana. “What, no Pink Floyd?” he asked.

    I was slightly surprised that he remembered that conversation, but I had to admit that I never really got into Pink Floyd. I mean, I had a copy of “Darkside of the Moon,” and it was cool and all, but I never had any interest in going any farther than that.

    It was like I kicked his puppy. Dan was so disappointed in me. “Pink Floyd will be there for you when you’re ready,” he added.

    I don’t think about Dan often, but when I do, it’s all pleasant and happy memories. Sad to say, I have never come around to Pink Floyd. Not that I have anything against them. It’s just not my thing. Yet, when a Pink Floyd song comes up on a Spotify playlist, I think of Dan; knowing that he is still floating on a great pot cloud in the sky – waiting for me to join him – maybe to push play on “Wish You Were Here.”

  • ODDS and ENDS: Real Spring, Writing in Cafes, and Teaching My Daughter Important Stuff

    (What you tryin’ to hand me…)

    Well, today felt like the first day of Real Spring. Not that fake Spring where it’s warm for like an hour or two, and then it goes back to being cold. No, Real Spring is when it’s cool in the morning, sunny sky, and you know that by afternoon you will need to take off your coat. Yeah, flowers are coming up, and a few buds are showing up on trees. I even saw a squirrel waving at people. I will be happy to have the windows open again, and there is something reassuring about sleeping with the windows open at night. The kid is excited because she says that she will be able to start wearing shorts again. (She equates Spring as a lower version of Summer, but who am I to burst that bubble…) Real Spring does mean that change is on the wind, and life is about to renew. It’s also when the wife and I switch from sipping bourbon to enjoying a gin and tonic after work.

    I have started writing in cafes and coffee shops again. I’m not a huge fan of it; the act boarders on the side of performative art. But I have to also admit that writing at home has become a difficult situation for me. Difficult because Mario Cart is so tempting, and sitting in the apartment reminds me of how many home improvement projects I haven’t finished. So, to the neighborhood cafe I go. Luckily, I am not alone when I work there. I have been arriving at the same time each day, but haven’t discovered any regulars. As far as I can tell, I think I am the only writer. Seems like everyone else is working on code. And they all seem younger than me.

    I am still trying to figure out this parenting thing. Most of the time, I do believe that I am doing a good job raising her, making sure she is prepared for the world that she will enter sooner than I would like. And I do drop the ball from time to time, and make mistakes. But, I have learned to own up to my mistakes, and apologize to her when I do fail. And then on other days, I make her sit and watch the MST3k episode of “Bride of the Monster,” because I want her to be funny. Or at least appreciate weird funny stuff. She seemed to have enjoyed it. I just need to wait and see if I hear her make Lobo jokes around her friends.