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Cape Cod Light
The light is different here. Rays shattered by billions of microscopic, airborne salt crystals that refract and refract endlessly. The light at Cape Cod is honey butter. I forget about the light until...
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5 Things We Loved About Cape Cod in 2013
It goes without saying — but I’ll say it anyway — that the best thing about our family’s visit to Cape Cod this year was that none of us was eaten by a great white shark. Not yet, anyway. It is the...
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This Place, These Folks: Saying Goodbye to our Daycare Center
This place will always be part of our family’s story, but it was time to move on. This place. These folks. This place with the garish orange and green lettering and that big, purple hand on the sign....
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Conflict Resolution: I Hope Words Work for Our Sons
Why would anyone ever want to punch that cute little kid in the stomach? (Me at age 6, four years before getting chased into the school restroom and jabbed in the solar plexus by an angry ‘friend.’)...
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The Things My Grandfather Gave me
Me, my grandfather and my brother in Rich Square, N.C. in about 1974 or ’75. We lost him in 1979 to a heart attack at age 61. An old man and two small boys walk together in the shade along the side of...
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If Only Parent Blogging Had Been a Thing When I was a Kid
My sons know nothing about my childhood. As far as they are concerned, I sprung fully formed from some unknown plane where dads are grown in rows like grapefruit trees. Thing is, if my dad had authored...
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We Met in the Newsroom
Back when there were newspapers, boys, the people who made them worked in cramped, dusty, frenetic places called newsrooms. Desks piled high with files and old news releases. Ringing phones. Last...
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The Hardest Thing I’ve Ever Done
As parents, we’ve all had to play the ‘Why’ game. For those of us who have ever had toddlers, we understand what it’s like to be the target of a rapid-fire Q&A. You know, something like this … KID:...
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Thank You, Dad: a Father’s Day Appreciation
Dad and me, circa 1988 or ’89. This would have been in Palm Beach Gardens. That young man on the left could (and still can) play a mean mandolin, and he could pick it at shortstop. My dad taught me how...
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When I was 9
When I was 9, we lived in a rural neighborhood tucked between our family’s farm and a DuPont plant built for commercial polyester production. Our yard was bordered by pasture land on one side and a...
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