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The man in me

Blue Dog. What a silly name for a man. It’s a Confederate flag-waving sort of name that sticks in the craw and appeals to the masculine aspect of American culture, which turns me off and triggers intestinal resistance to the cult of masculinity.  Blue Dog reminds me of those long-hair reactionary Harley-riding butchies who…

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Walking and talking, father and son

Nick’s turned 16 and is given to acts of rebellion. He’s not at the point where we’ve come to an impasse, just moments of defiance. Of course, as parents, we see his recalcitrance as silly. He doesn’t have many chores to do as a member of the household. Empty the…

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The old house on State Line

Yesterday, I took Nick out to a prestigious private school out south on State Line Road. He had an event, a volunteer day, for the Lincoln Preparatory Academy Robotics Club, of which he is an enthusiastic member. I took a route from our house that would avoid the neighborhood I…

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