This was just an odd day. I went to bed on Thursday feeling like I might be sick. Come to find out when I woke up that I was sort of sick; stuffed up nose and a sore throat. But it never got any worse than that. I kept expecting to have that run down feeling come over me, yet it never showed up. I just felt odd.
As such, I got a bunch of stuff done except writing.
Now, here I am, writing on my phone while sitting in bed, ready for sleep, but knowing that I cannot end this day without writing something.
And this is it; purely a statement of being – I am here, I exist, and I have made a squeak in the void.
My mother was a nurse, and she loved helping people. It wasn’t a job; it was a calling. I say this because she told me often that she never saw people at their best. When you show up at the doctor’s office, and especially at the hospital, people are usually at their worst, and don’t always behave well. She would try to approach each patient with a level of empathy, knowing that the person just wanted to feel better, and a little kindness goes a long way. Reading Angela Kubinec’s flash fiction story “To the woman who conducted my disability benefits interview” touches on this theme, and uses a format to reinforce that idea.
Three main tenants landed with me as I read this piece. First is the protagonist/narrator who wrote this letter to the social worker. I was touched by the humanity of this person. Though it is never fully identified what the disability is for the protagonist, medication bottles and past delusions are mentioned, so a possible mental disorder seems applicable. This character has a nervous frantic energy, but at the same time feels like they are doing their best to hold it all together. Through it all, charming bits of humor and vulnerability peek through. The second part of this story that intrigued me was how the social worker is described in this letter. From the start of the story, the social worker’s annoyance is almost tactile, and she is covered in a harried tiredness which exemplifies a person who is overworked, and underappreciated in the essential job they perform. She is presented as a person who has seen and heard it all before when it comes to these interviews. This creates a simple yet very effective tension between these two, but humanity and sympathy still finds ways to bloom forth in this situation. This lead me to the third point, which is how Kubinec’s use of the letter as the structure to frame this story. Though this isn’t a formal letter, using this format elevates the emotional impact of this situation. The protagonist, the writer of this letter, states that this incident between them occurred years ago, implying clearly that these events have stayed with them. That this act of simple kindness has had weight and impact on their life. By using the letter format, or second-person narrative if you will, the social worker is the target audience, leaving us the reader in a role of witness to the protagonist’s unguarded honesty. It’s as if we are being let in on a secret, instead of being told a story.
“To the woman…” is the kind of flash fiction story that reminds me not to give up on humanity. Just a little sympathy and kindness can help others in immeasurable ways. Perhaps not the most original theme, but a vital one, and one that in the time that we live in, we desperately need reminding of.
I’m at the end of my working day, and sadly, I wasn’t able to put together a good blog. I had wanted to write a short story review, but that didn’t work out either.
I am still trying to catch up from the weekend, and what the snow has wrought. The family schedule has been thrown off, and I am only now getting things back on track. Though it might appear that I lead the fabulous life of a blogger/writer/critic… my life as a stay-at-home-parent does come first.
Which is why, only now, at 4:14pm am I sitting down to write today’s blog, which is more about not writing the blog I had envisioned.
But isn’t that life? You make a plan, and then God laughs.
I make lots of plans, and most of then do not work out. As I get older, I become more comfortable with this affirmation of life – things go sideways sometimes. You roll with it.
I gotta go and meet the kid and take her to soccer in a minute, so I should wrap this up.
Though I didn’t write the thing I wanted to write for myself, and you, I did show up, and I did write something. I met the goal.
(The short story “Light Secrets” by Joseph O’Neill appeared in the January 26th, 2026 issue of The New Yorker.)
Photograph by Eric Helgas for The New Yorker
Got another “Can’t Put My Finger on It” short story. (It’s doubly funny because hands come into play with the work.) I have come around, and I will say that I do like Joseph O’Neill’s “Light Secrets.” And I did come around to it, because when I finished reading it, I wasn’t sure exactly what I had read. “What is this?” I said out loud in my car. See, I was in the process of moving my car for the street sweeper, but the sweeper hadn’t arrived yet, so I decided that I should read this story. The sweeper never arrived, so as I walked back to my apartment, I contemplated what I had just read. And my opinion began to change.
Though “Light Secrets” is a contemporary story taking place in New York City, it feels more akin to a late 70’s early 80’s New York – like in a Woody Allen movie. You know, smart professional people in their 40’s with leisure time to lunch, walk the City, attend friendly dinner parties, and enjoy robust social circles. I’m not bringing this up as a criticism of the work, more to establish the setting and mentality of these characters; their lives have a breath and space to them which allows for internal contemplation, and though they all have outside pressures in their lives, none of those pressures are paramount to define their being, but are more like accessories to highlight characterization. For a story like this to work, you have to believe that these characters are the type of people that would take the time to analyze and digest what their friends say and how it may apply to their life, and not just move from moment to moment.
And with that said, I’m not sure what “Light Secrets” is trying to say, but I liked it. I like the sensibility of it. How the protagonist speaks to us like we’re a friend. I like how things are left undefined, and rough around the edges. How moments seem to have an intersection, but maybe it’s just a coincidence? Does the touching of hands mean anything, or is it just something that happens? Can a lifetime of good deeds be undone by an unconfirmed rumor? Should it? I kept finding myself going back and thinking of the old adage, “If a tree falls in the woods, does it make a sound?” Does a good deed have to be acknowledged for it to have impact and relevance? Is existentialism just dumb luck which we have thought too much about?
I hate to admit it, but I am a sucker for stories like this – undefined and leading to interpretation. You know, which door has the tiger behind it, and stuff like that. “Light Secrets” is right up my alley, and I think O’Neill did an excellent job of balancing his story, in regard to the information we are given, and the information left out. It’s a well thought through work, and I appreciate that it required me to slow down a step, and just contemplate life for a bit.
I know that January is over half way over, but in my little world, the wife and I are still trying to figure out what our 2026 is going to look like. This is more than “New Year’s Resolutions” which are I feel are doomed to fail. No, this planning is more like setting out birthday and holiday budgets, if and where do we want to travel, do we remodel the kid’s bedroom this year. Stuff like that. You know, planning.
And then there are goals. Paying down debt is high on the list, and it would be nice to drop ten pounds. I think that 2026 is the year that I need to start earning an income. A few dollars here and there from writing has been cool, but it isn’t enough to actually make a dent in the family’s finances. I’m not sure/confident that 2026 will be the year that writing starts bringing dollars, or if I will need to go out and get a traditional job. And if I go out and get a job, do I return to my former career of arts admin, do I try something different, or do I go after a part-time gig to keep my stay-at-home-dad creds current?
Now, 2025 didn’t actually work out the way we planned, but I do know that God got a good laugh outta it; per normal. Yet, 2025 wasn’t a bad year. We made progress as a family, and the kid is good and happy, which is our paramount concern day in and day out. But, I have to take responsibility that I didn’t complete the number of stories that I had set as my goal, and I did fall one story shout on my publication/acceptance goal for the year. And I did drop ten pounds, but put it back on during the Holidays, so that was a wash.
But as I look at 2026, and even with all the shit that is flying around in this country and in the world (I’m still doom-scrolling in the morning) I haven’t given up yet. I hope that one day I will get to rest and relax, but I know life is struggle and I don’t see that changing. Struggle for a better day, a better world for my kid and yours, too.
