Tag: memories

I Did a Bad, Bad Thing, Part III.

[Part 3 of a series. You should read Part 1 and Part 2 first.] “What’s the matter?” Vince feigned, as Jer stumbled into the room clutching a little piece of white paper and a torn white envelope. “You look awful.”…

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Adventures in Surgery IV: Putting the Where in Underwear.

This is the fourth, and finale, in the series, “Adventures in Surgery.” I tried to open my eyes, but could lift my lids only part way. There was Susan. “Oh, Babe!” I exclaimed, delighted and slurring, as if David Coperfield…

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Thanksgiving and The Refinished Table

What do you have to be thankful for? Family, health, love, employment, all things that typically get mentioned at a time like this. I’ve recognized them on many Thanksgiving Days in the past, and likely will in the future. On this Thanksgiving Day I have a TABLE to be thankful for. A table? It’s not an obvious thing to be thankful for is it?

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Lights, cameras, MEMORIES!

My fondest memory as a youngster of the pre-Christmas visit from Santa Claus was at my father’s company Christmas party. (This was the ‘Family Party’ of course, no drinks or unseemly behavior was tolerated.) Dad was something of a big shot at his company, having nearly 200 folks reporting to him. I was considering this time in my past and realized the four of us kids never waited long to actually sit on Santa’s lap

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The Worst Christmas Present Ever

I couldn’t imagine what was possible after that. I mean, if Brian, my fourteen year-old brother, had just received this, what would I, a husky rough-and-tumble seventeen year-old, who came up during the summers to help with the haying, receive? A machine gun?

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I Did a Bad, Bad Thing, Part V. Epilogue.

[The end to the story told in “I Did a Bad, Bad, Thing” Part 1, 2, 3, and 4] Ray raced past the study carrel where I was sitting in the library before making a screeching halt and coming back.…

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Hit and Run

I also saw my father standing at the picture window, screaming something that, God be praised, I couldn’t hear, and gesticulating wildly. He had unexplainably and unforgivably (on my view) parked behind my car in no-man’s-land. I watched the scene unfold for about 5 seconds, and then I threw my car into drive and hit the gas.

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Never Go Back to the 20s.

My students are often dismayed when I announced that the worst is still in front of them. The teens, even with High School, adolescence, and hell of Jr. High (considered by many the worst time ever), is not the worst…

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