‘The Cow Bell’
A great grief saddles me,/ rides down the pampas of / Virginia Dare Avenue, / until I am too tired / and we return home / together ...
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Categories
Essays
Category: Essays
‘When Hay Bales Speak to You’
Let’s talk hay bales. I have, perhaps like you, been spying hay bales most all my life. Yet, in all that time haven’t met a hay bale. Up close. The other day, I had my chance.
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Categories
Essays
How a West Virginia Artist Captured 100 Badass Women
Overwhelmed by the headlines, by Donald Trump, by a pandemic and with winter coming, West Virginia artist Sassa Wilkes couldn't get herself to her easel. Then, RBG died and Sassa found she wanted to get to know the legal legend by painting her portrait. Then, she kept on going with 99 more portraits of badass women.
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Three Not-the-News, Under-a-Minute Videos
When you are suffering from an overdose of dire news, may we suggest spending a minute with a happy dog tooling down the road, a koto-fueled Japanese fire, and bird upon a Buddha's head?
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‘Window No. 1’
One of my earliest, notable windows was in the basement bedroom I shared with brother Rick. It opened to the left, sliding open with a satisfying 'chonk!' Revealing the level grass of our backyard.
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A Dozen Ways to Look at Chicago, Illinois
I've always been intrigued by human beings whose lives are lived just below and sometimes at the level of the clouds. They surround us by the thousands, the tens of thousands. In blue rooms, staring at TVs in their skyboxes. Doing Downward Facing Dog, 2,000 feet above the sidewalk.
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‘My Paragraph & I’
'I want my paragraph to strut, carved cane in hand, the Left Bank, like a proper boulevardier. I want my paragraph to wow you. leave you wanting more. To, if possible, make you gasp. To make you—prose willing—cry. And then, to laugh. And then to laugh at your crying ...'
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‘Body of Evidence’
'I'd no excuse not to grok the fact, or traffic in illusions of not growing old. Or denial of encroaching senescence. Or flipping the bird at Mister Death. It would halt nothing of my body's fade, of our decay. I was, perhaps, whistling past my future graveyard.'
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One Rant, One Song, One Memoir for Mother’s Day
She had the greenest of thumbs, a bright intellect and dreamed of being the kind of writer that Toni Morrison, a hometown contemporary, became. What to do when your mother — in the late stages of Alzheimer's — is moving mutely toward her departure from this life?
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‘WHAT IF YOU KNEW HER?’: The Protest 7 Years after Kent State
Today marks the 50th anniversary of the Kent State shootings, in which four students were gunned down on May 4, 1970. As a student journalist, I profiled a protest seven years later on the Kent campus, where the memories remained raw and more than a thousand converged to protest.
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Peace & Geese & Hillbilly Hotdogs
I have settled on the title of my collection of essays about weird and wonderful sights in West Virginia: 'Please Don't Write on Hotdog.' Here's why.
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Who Gets My Beloved Guitars if Covid Gets Me
Dear Family: I come to you on a matter of some urgency. That is to say, the disbursement of my three beloved guitars, should 'The Rona' get me. This is who should become the adoptive parents of Michele, Gilda, and Blue ...
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Images Outside the Pandemic Box
I've wanted to start a simple series here at TheStoryIsTheThing, called "3Photos." The aim is to lay off the sprawling essays, the tangentialism, and attempts to be wise, but which may just be a bad case of P.A.W.S. (Pseudointellectualism At Work Syndrome).
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