I barely notice the two masks outside the building. One laughs at me. The other cries.
We walk at a distance behind the couple in front of us. Maybe they just stepped into public after being released from prison — not sure how to interact with society. Hands in pockets, looking left, then right, my wife and I feel the same way. We’re both a little giddy.
I can’t unsee the picture on Facebook. It’s not bad, not at all.
My daughters posted it for my birthday, the three of us clowning around on a beach at sundown. As I look at it, I realize it shows more than you might think.
First, Daughter #1 isn’t a teenager anymore. She hit twenty a few weeks earlier, which means I’m getting old.
Two, the lighting on the beach must have distorted the camera. There’s no way that I look that old.
On a cold January night, flakes glisten in the moonlight as the flurry hints at a storm. I plan a fire before starting to write. Maybe the crackle of dry wood mixed with a dose of binaural music will inspire the missing chapter in my latest book.
I think back to a fire on Christmas Eve when three of us jacked it up too fast to get it to a full burn.
“Don’t pay too much attention to the fire,” warned my brother-in-law. We didn’t listen. The flame petered out.
Left with a pile of scorched logs, we started again…
Lookout towers along our coastlines once stood watch for German U-boats preying on U.S. ships— a concrete testament to our country’s resolve in defending a way of life. Today, as we walk those beaches, the towers melt into the natural landscape.
Robert Whaley joined the Navy at 17. Not after a military career, he was just doing his part for the war effort. At his first stop in Cape May, New Jersey, his recruit platoon marched away the days in basic training. …
Around Delaware, turkey dinners and turkey bowls will soon give way to impromptu class reunions.
On one such recent occasion, my grade school classmates gathered to reminisce shortly after one of our favorite teachers, Jack Collins, passed away. Looking at the pictures on Facebook the next day, I thought about the significant and lasting influence one teacher had on all of us, and so many more.
Earlier that week, I had been driving by our old parochial school when I happened to switch on the Springsteen channel on satellite radio. The lyrics seemed to be written for Mr. Collins…
Christmas season doesn’t end at our house until the tree comes down. It’s still sopping water from the base, but its branches sag now that the music has faded away. The Charlie Brown train stopped running weeks ago. Needles litter the track.
Things changed this year.
We bought a smaller tree that could only fit half the normal lot of ornaments. The skirt that soaked up excess water gave way to a shiny metal collar that hid the new base. A crack in the old one created a flood last year. …
A tour of the Battleship New Jersey brings a sailor to life.
Politicians applaud our Veterans during election cycles. Restaurants offer special deals for a day in November and we thank them for their service as casually as somebody holding open a door. But how many of us really know how the veterans in our lives spent their time in the service, or when they did it?
A group of sailors from the USS Clark FFG-11 gathers annually in Wilmington to catch up, trade a few jabs and share some memories. A quiet celebration of service. …
When not working as a Financial Advisor, Paul writes about everyday people. His first book, Forbidden Inheritance was published in 2020.