Working in Paris
I only had $3,000 so that meant I could stick out three weeks in Paris, maybe. Three is a biblical number, a spiritual number, and besides, I only had $3,000. When the money was finished, I was headed...
View ArticleSmarty Sis
My first job was working at the White Hen Pantry down Thatcher Avenue, stuffing together early edition Sunday Chicago Tribune newspapers for ten dollars and sweeping the parking lot for five every...
View ArticleT-ball Ump
Those two T-ball fields next to the White Hen was where I excelled, whether I was playing second base, shortstop or pitcher, batting leadoff or second or third in the lineup, stealing bases, crying...
View ArticleHomecoming
Wearing sport jackets and ties, my friend and I stepped out of his father’s white Cadillac. Our dates wore dresses and sweet perfume. The Italian restaurant on Halsted Street bustled with crowded...
View ArticleMy Hippie Wife
Initially, we had eight houses at the end of the block, no fences anywhere, all gardens, with paths and benches here and there and even private alcoves behind trees. That was the first phase. The...
View ArticleHouse Cues
Shortstop Lounge in Forest Park was the place to find us at night during our twenties. We stowed belongings behind the bar if we needed. We stayed after-hours, depending on the bartender. Ralph and...
View ArticleDad
Vic Pilolla gave his boss a heart attack. Vic was working as the general counsel of the Interstate Commerce Commission, a federal bureaucracy. This was in the 1980s. It was a cushy job, and Vic only...
View ArticleDog and Dad
Kopas was a nine month old stray when I got him, the age people often kick a dog out of the house because it’s too rambunctious. And Kopas was rambunctious. He had satellite dish ears and a whipcord...
View ArticleBees and Brother
Joey and I and a few cousins one afternoon decided to play cops-and-robbers in the woods of Northern Wisconsin. I was about 7 years old, Joey about 13. As robbers, my brother and I needed to find a...
View ArticleKites
My dad wrote the following story in 1994 and won an award for it. The wind whipped across the cemetery grounds in angry gusts, hazing the outlines of the tombstones and blurring the distance. A flock...
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