Present Tense

Stories from my memoir and other projects.

Slacks

I’m not exactly sure why I can’t look into his face. Partly I am still hurt and a little angry because he has pulled away from me. Partly I am ashamed about wrecking the dashboard and radio in his new van. But mostly I am just dreading school clothes shopping with Dad: He stands before me wearing a tan parka over his suit and tie. The parka is made from some sort of synthetic fabric so that whenever he moves, it makes loud swishing noises. Read more…

I Am Not Your Broom

Chest hammering, I decide I don’t have to take it anymore. Reaching forward, I snap the TV on and settle back into the love seat. I try to look relaxed, but my body is on high alert. Mom comes to the door and looks at me incredulously, her hands on her hips. Read more…

Save the Children

Looking out the window, I pretend what Dad is saying doesn’t even matter to me, but I am listening carefully to every word he says. The wind rushing in the window makes a loud noise. I wait quietly for a few minutes. When I finally speak, my voice sounds creaky and dry. Read more…  

20/20

In the small steel manufacturing town where I spent my youth, the elementary school taught only English. In the 70s, the bottom dropped out of steel, leaving rage as the town’s only remaining export. Read more…

Modern Love essay in the New York Times: As a Father, I Was Hardly a Perfect Fit.

Mid-summer bonus issue of Brevity 27: I Am.