Tag: #family

  • Short Story Review: “Wall Cano” by Souvankham Thammavongsa

    (The short story “Wall Cano” by Souvankham Thammavongsa appeared in the November 2nd, 2026 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Illustration by Lewis Chamberlain

    The first school science fair I participated in was six grade, and the kid that won the fair built a working model of a volcano. He had the whole baking soda and vinegar eruption that came overflowing out of the top of his mountain, which was so well done, we all assumed that his father had helped. To this day, when the words “science fair” are spoken, my memory goes back to that volcano, and the intertwined feeling of awe and disappointment. Memory is funny like that, because as an adult looking back, I can see now that I was lazy, and didn’t take the time on the project, and maybe the kid who won actually earned the top prize. Souvankham Thammavongsa’s “Wall Cano” is a story that also has a volcano from a science fair in it, but uses this prop in a very ingenious way, which addresses memory, childhood, and parenting.

    The story is about more than a science fair, or even a volcano. Even though the protagonist is remembering her childhood, its presented not as the past in retrospect, but more like a living memory. Tangents and incidents are remembered, not so much as to move the plot forward, more to decorate and color this world that the story takes place in. Not everything is explained, nor is every motivation understood, because this world is remembered from a ten-year old’s perspective. This creates a feeling of innocence in the story; a touch of curious wonder, but not confusion. The protagonist and the younger brother work to understand their world, as their parents aren’t guiding them. This is not due to neglect, but being that the parents are immigrants, the father refers to himself as a refugee, so they aren’t accustomed to how some thing work. And by proxy, neither do the children.

    I’m leaving out details of the story on purpose. A little bit because I don’t want to spoil it, but also because what is revealed, and how it is revealed, is an important part of this narrative. What seems random in fact is building the protagonist’s budding cognoscente reality. She might not understand how these things are connected, but she knows they are connected, yet we can see that they are connected. I loved that Thammavongsa trusted us, the reader, that we’d put it all together for the narrative to work, but still left it vague enough so there was a feeling of mystery.

    The final section of the story wraps everything up very well; asking how memories stay with us, continue to live in our consciousness, and influence us. And also, leading us to wonder how things would have been different if there was just the slightest bit of change, or even guidance.

  • Running with My Kid

    I am not a fan of working out, but I understand the need. As a person with a wife and child, I want to spend as much time with them as possible, hence why I try to work out. Not that I am good at it, or even good with keeping the schedule of working out, which leads me to say that, though I may not be “in” shape, I most certainly am not “out” of shape.

    My daughter used to play soccer, which would practice three days a week, and play one game on the weekend. Sadly, she got burned out on the sport, and has been without a physical activity since June. Not one to sit around and do nothing, the kid asked me if we could take up jogging together.

    I am not one to discourage my child, and feel that one of my primary responsibilities is to support my child on whatever endeavor she wishes to pursue. So, of course, I said yes to her request, and we planned on jogging around our local park, two days a week to start with. You know, see how we feel about it.

    The kid loves it.

    It’s been painful for me.

    My knees have been hurting, along with my left foot, and I have been waking up in the morning with a sore right hip. But the worst part, by far, is how clearly running with my kid has shown that I might, in fact, be closer to “out” of shape, rather than “in.” I can only run so long before my lungs start burning, and my muscles feel weak and rubbery. I even noticed that the kid is slightly annoyed at how slow I run, and has started just running way in front of me, and waiting for me to catch up with her.

    I keep telling her that I will get up to her speed, but it’s just going to take me some time. I gotta practice and get my old body back into the swing of running.

    “Sure, dad.” She says to me. “Sure.”

  • Short Story Review: “Chuck Murphy’s Last Run” by Kevin Barry

    (The short story “Chuck Murphy’s Last Run” by Kevin Barry appeared in the October 19th, 2026 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (Illustration by Thomas Colligan; Source photograph from Getty)

    Just about nobody likes getting older. The exception in my life is my kid, who looks forward to every birthday, with the adding another digit to her age. For the rest of us, at some point a switch is flipped, and getting older is something that is dreaded rather than celebrated. Kevin Barry’s story “Chuck Murphy’s Last Run” takes a stab at this predicament, using a group of aging Irish friends, who all belong in a quasi-biker gang, as they journey to send off their mutual friend who recently died.

    The story begins with a solid first paragraph, establishing that what will follow will be humorous as it tackles a somber situation. This approach worked well for the story, which was a very competent piece of writing. Nothing got too serious, as Barry would slip in a joke or two to break any building tension. Motivations were understood, and the interplay between characters felt honest. In all, the story moved at solid clip.

    Yet, nothing happened in this story that wasn’t predictable. You knew they were going to make it to their destination, you knew they were going to say goodbye to their friend, you knew people in the group were going to have an argument, and you knew the main character was going to learn that life was changing, again. This is the reason why I used the word competent to describe this story, because that’s what it was. I could diagram out this story, it was so well constructed. I wouldn’t call it paint by numbers, but it might be two steps away from that.

    What “Chuck Murphy’s Last Run” felt like was a piece of store-bought cake. Sometimes you just want a spongy, sweet piece of cake that hits the spot. It’s a good piece of cake, but five minutes later, you’ve already forgotten about it.

  • I’m back from fishin’ (Unedited)

    In reality, I was traveling to Texas to visit my family, especially my father. See, back on Labor Day, while my dad was staying with my brother and his family, my father had an angina episode. Though scary as all hell, it wasn’t a heart attack, and he is fine. He’ll have some follow ups with his doctor and cardiologist, but on the whole, he’s fine. I was staying with him for the week, to make sure that he took it easy and recovered. Besides, I like spending time with my dad. And I got to see my whole Texas family, so considering what had happened, it actually was a pretty good trip.

    Before the trip, it was awful. I got a call from my brother saying that Dad was having chest pains and they were taking him to the hospital. My brothers and sisters-in-law did a great job of keeping me and my family in the loop on what was going on, but being 1,500 miles away, all that it created in me was a feeling of powerlessness. Cheering on from afar, but knowing there was nothing I could do other than get on a plane.

    Funny how there are still instances and situations that I can find myself in that just smack me down to feeling like a helpless child.

    Though I told myself no to go there, not to think those thoughts; I did. I thought of living in a world without my father. To exist orphaned, no parents, lost and adrift. So what if I am middle aged? My folks are supposed to be here forever.

    But I already lost my mother. It will be six years this October. I can feel the gloom building in me as I get closer to that date. It’s not as bad as it was. I’m healing, learning to remember all the things that made her a wonder mom, and all the quirky weird stuff that she did that made her uniquely our mother.

    Just not ready to lose my father.

    And I haven’t, for which I am thankful. Still got some more time to make him laugh.

  • Summer Break is Over

    Before I had a kid, and was a young adult running around New York City, the framework dates for Summer were simple; It lasted from Memorial Day to Labor Day. After Memorial Day, it felt like the City emptied out, and then the day after Labor Day, the City filled back up. And that was how I thought of Summer in those days.

    After having a kid, “Summer” returned to the definition it had when I was a child; Summer was from when school ended, to when school started up again. It didn’t fit neatly into the Memorial/Labor Day bookends, because the school bookends feel correct.

    Which brings me to say that Summer is over as the kid is back in school.

    And this was an okay Summer. Nothing amazing, but still fun. We did some road trips as a family, visiting Vermont and West Virginia. The kid went to her sleep away camp, which allowed all of us to enjoy a break from each other, and as enjoy reuniting as a family again.

    Displaying IMG_9449.jpeg

    (Here I am about to go four-wheelin’ in Vermont.)

    Creatively, I took a break this Summer. I kept up the journal, but decided that I should have a break from the blog, reviews, and fiction. I thought it best to catch up on reading, and start thinking about what I want to accomplish for the last half of the year. I did work a little on a novel, but it was more an exercise of fun, and not meant to be anything more than that.

    So, here I sit, writing a blog on the couch, a stack of books on the end table, and a crap ton of short stories clogging up my Inbox that need to be read and possibly reviewed. Then there are the stories I need to finish writing, and then proceed to submit to all the lit journals across the internets.

    Which leads me to say, I am looking forward to Autumn!