Category Archives: Growing up me

No French cuffs

Plaid flannel shirtsof my Northwoods youthsmelled ofbeer and pine conesboat motor gasoline andfresh-caught sunfishwood smokeand filtered Winstons When I was a kid theintertwined, pungentaromas of cervelat salamiplumbers’ grease, house paintmingled freely, lockedin square-patterned fibersalways-rolled-up sleeves no amount ofFels Naptha-soapcould smother … Continue reading

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June 5, 2019

News item: On this day in 1977, the Apple II computer went on sale, and the era of personal computing began. Developed by Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak, it was the first successful mass-produced microcomputer designed for home use. In 1977 on June … Continue reading

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Trivium

I It was here that I found myself – as much as one teenager can It was here that I tallied a notable string of personal firsts, nails hammered logs split fish caught girl loved cars driven stick shift, mastered … Continue reading

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Laughter, unfading

‘If by chance some day you’re not feeling well and you should remember some silly thing I’ve said or done and it brings back a smile to your face or a chuckle to your heart, then my purpose as your … Continue reading

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Echelons

Feet on the bottom of a swimming pool at times still fill me with strange sensation retaining an unknown, odd fear – wet concrete hard, dispassionate I was eight the first time I hit chlorinated water our family trumpeting middle-class … Continue reading

Posted in Contemporary Life, Growing up me, Uncategorized

Traveling

On family trips when I was eight, nine plastic, primary-color cowboys, Indians, soldiers, animals fought and romped in a synthetic, nappy, dark-blue rear-window battlefield meadow Other times, it was a fuzzy ledge on which to lean, and watch the road … Continue reading

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Frogs

  – Mark L. Lucker © 2017 http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

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Father’s Day Requiem

We never had one of those TV sitcom father-imparts-his-sage wisdom, serious sit-downs that I can recall I have no fatherly counsel fortune-cookie-inclusion viral-meme-worthy wisdom to share rarely proclaiming, “As my daddy used to say…” Sans great punchline parts of my … Continue reading

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Old growth

At age seven I nearly killed the pubescent birch tree anchoring our Minneapolis backyard stripping it of all its bark, roots to four feet up – the physical limits of my fanciful reach As Mrs. Kime’s most intrepid first-grader I … Continue reading

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No French Cuffs

Plaid flannel shirts of my Northwoods youth smelled of beer and pine cones boat motor gasoline and fresh caught sunfish wood smoke and filtered Winstons when I was a kid the intertwined, pungent aromas of cervelat salami plumbers’ grease, house … Continue reading

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