Tag: oak park
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Memoir: A lineage of male violence (1976-77)
I wake profoundly shaken by this dream, cast down by its revelation, stumbling into the sudden nightmare of day dawning, and I, a virtual parricide.
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Memoir: Where babies come from (1968)
Even dogs, the noblest of creatures in my mind, were stained with the same mammalian taint of bestial inter-penetration. Oh, it was hard for a while to look at dogs, even my beloved Carin Terrier Marilyn, with respect.
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Memoir: from Captain Fantastic (1974) to Quadrophenia (1980)
The music hadn’t changed a bit. But I had.
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Memoir: football fantasies (1968-72)
As you get older, you’ll see how fantasies change with the situation, but your football dreams reanimated in me yesterday…
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Memoir: Early memories of dad (1966-67)
Sports were one place dad felt comfortable interacting with me. Otherwise he acted as men who came of age in the 1940s and 50s did: strong, silent, and cool. Except when it came to sports. In the presence of an athletic contest, dad re-animated. Watching a game on our black and white TV, he’d explosively…
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Memoir: Joking can be serious (1974)
Why do humans laugh? Why do they make jokes? Ask the evolutionary psychologists, and they’ll tell you that people only speak and behave to further the survival of our species. Two scientists at S.U.N.Y Binghamton assert that laughter first began among our ancestors two to four million years ago as a sort of social glue.…
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Memoir: an incomplete healing (1974)
Dorothy Thompson, the “First Lady of American Journalism,” wrote that “peace is not the absence of conflict, but the presence of creative alternatives for responding to conflict–alternatives to…violence.” In other words, at war’s end, enmity between factions is never eliminated, but instead transformed into “peaceful” guises. In my experience, just as conflict persists after an…
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Memoir: my sister Sheila
My sister Sheila had a magical connection with the family Cairn Terrier. Sheila would bang out Grieg’s “In the Hall of the Mountain King” on the baby grand as Marilyn, the dog, sat on her haunches underneath and howled, much to my delight. It seemed Sheila and Marilyn communicated on an intense separate wavelength, unheard…
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Memoir: the weaving of a dream 1976
It’s a Friday night in March, and Phil, Glen, Billy and I, all sophisticated 8th graders, quietly climb a ladder into the cramped space under the rafters in Billy’s garage. We bring with us a 12 pack of beer and a transistor radio. The little attic is dark and smells of roof tar and sawdust.…
The Wikiness 