Tag Archives: youth

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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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

Posted in Campfire poems, Growing up me, The Lake | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Breezes

summer comes to a close autumnal breezes waft rustling memories of those days when the close of summer had more definitive endings sun-drenched days of youthful frolic, innocent play, done swimming, playing with frogs in holes dug on sandy beaches … Continue reading

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33 (For Johnny)*

Twenty-one years was not nearly enough; we had just embarked when you left. Thirty-three years is not nearly enough to erase what is indelibly sketched not a pencil caricature, a dimly recollected photographic snapshot or grainy home movie just you, … Continue reading

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First dance

A ma-and-pa resort, small lake north woods of Minnesota small office behind quaint bar, twelve small cabins dozen aluminum rowboats to use; minnows, worms, leeches for sale amenities, ala Angler’s Edge Joe & Gloria’s place The bar a hangout for … Continue reading

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Waiting for Felix

Quintessentially American; refrigerator door Louvre stylistically Picassoesque, Daliesque though Dadaism and Mamaism predominate as pudgy-finger tempera on newsprint evolved into more complex designs, bolder expressions of the artists vision in markers on white paper, macaroni on tag board, leaves melted … Continue reading

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Art of Flying

Flights of fancy via wings of balsa when an extra nickel added a propeller we took wing on wind-looping imagination gliding sometimes to gentle landings more often crashing with aplomb-tinged disappointment when repairs were beyond the pale Images silently soaring, … Continue reading

Posted in Growing up me, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,

33 (For Johnny)*

Twenty-one years was not nearly enough; we had just embarked when you left. Thirty-three years is not nearly enough to erase what is indelibly sketched not a pencil caricature, a dimly recollected photographic snapshot or grainy home movie just you, … Continue reading

Posted in In Memoriam, Life, Relationships, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Manly

At eight-years old machismo has a very different feel ‘Don’t cry like a baby,’ my son would admonish his second-grade peers ‘…cry like a man!’ As he is now sixteen I wonder…would he challenge them at all?

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