How Dare You Call Me “Sir!”

I’m not very good at writing short stories, which makes me admire the geniuses of the short form all the more. A good short story – like a good column – aims for its ending like a rifle shot. And just as the “crack!” of  a rifle...

The Troubled Theology of a Certain Kind of Wasp

It started like any other mid-July zucchini-roasting session. Balance the tray beside the trusty Weber grill. Turn on the propane. Wait a few seconds. Click the igniter. But this time, there was no satisfying “whoompf!” I gave it a few more seconds. Then a...

An Act of Kindness Squelches a Goofus

If you’ve ever sat in a pediatrician’s waiting room, you’ve probably  met a pair of comic strip characters named Goofus and Gallant. Goofus, a pudgy little miscreant with rebellious hair, has been behaving badly in the pages of Highlights...

Two Startled Commuters on Warm Springs Road

It’s dusk on a humid summer evening. Your heart pounds with anticipation. This is Warm Springs, the road you’ve been warned about but can’t resist. You take it slow, rolling on despite the danger signs, your tires crunching the moist gravel. Shermans...

In Search of That Elusive Yellow Ball

One summer, a few years after we moved onto St. Peter’s Church Road, I turned on the television to watch the Wimbledon final. The championship match was broadcast on NBC, which was lucky, because that was the only channel we got. And by “got,” I mean...

New York, New York — It’s a Hell of a Town

If there’s an opposite to a peaceful June evening on St. Peter’s Church Road, when the moist evening air rolls off the flank of Blue Mountain and flushes an armada of hopeful fireflies from the field grass, it has to be rush hour in Manhattan in the...