At Least They're Committed

I can’t get the image of Daniel Rohrbough’s lifeless body laying prone on the sidewalk out of my head. Green T-shirt, dark jeans, brown hair. It’s the 10th anniversary of Columbine. I won’t go into that afternoon and night because it was traumatic and emotionally crippling for everyone, everyone and it’s not like I or any… Read more

My folks didn’t pay for my college. Scripps Howard payed a little bit — enough for tuition and a little bit of food — but the rest was up to me. To save money, Mariko, my Siamese cat, and I had moved out of the beautiful old house that had been converted into apartments and… Read more

I was sitting on the bus lamenting that America’s Sister Golden Hair had disappeared from my iPod and it got me thinking about the song’s lyrics and it suddenly struck me that they — like many from 20, 30, 40 years ago — might actually not have (gasp) withstood the Test of Time! (Example 1, “Well she always knows… Read more

. . . but I do remember piling a bunch of grown dogs, puppies and children into the back of a weathered station wagon that was already crammed with adults and pseudo adults, such as my two oldest children. I know my nieces were there and my mom and sister were somewhere down the road.… Read more

Walking along Cherry Creek on my lunch break, later than usual, it’s Friday, bitch of a week, it’s after 1:30 p.m. . . . Lost Man’s on his bench. This time he just nods and smiles a broken grin when I go by the first time; on the way back, though, he says his signature line, “I like that,… Read more

I’m not sure what kind it is, but when we first moved in here — when the house was a child of about 5 — it was already here, firmly rooted in the front yard, and it’s not a birch or a cottonwood and it has pretty, twisted leaves. But one year after we were here, it was… Read more