I wrote an essay for this blog a couple years ago about what it feels like to be a military brat and not have a hometown. Other military brats will understand what I mean. I was born in Turkey and lived in several places before Dad finally retired in Tampa. Dad was born and raised in Bradenton, Florida, Mom in Nederland, Colorado; they had hometowns. … Continue reading Hometowns
When I was twelve or so, Dad told me to get off my derrière and earn some money. So, I started pushing the lawn mower around the neighborhood. Thankfully, since we had a corner lot, he’d bought one of those new fangled self-propelled machines. It made it easier, but no less tedious, to mow that forty thousand acre yard in the hot Tampa summer. And … Continue reading Tampa Boy’s First Job
This is a sort of stream-of-consciousness essay. I’m pretty sentimental. Forgive the errors; I’m posting just as I posted it elsewhere. Mr. Linares tried his best to make me enjoy vocational drafting at Tampa Tech, but I hated it and joined the Navy instead. I worked on Navy aircraft for thirty years, both enlisted man and officer. I was stationed on Diego Garcia in the … Continue reading Tampa Boy
My faith in humanity was crushed at the young age of fifteen when my beloved ten-speed racer, for which I saved all summer my lawn mowing and busboy earnings, was stolen from behind the Village Inn Pancake House while I bussed tables. Whoever stole my bike must have needed it badly since they cut the thick chain that secured it to the old oak tree … Continue reading Gleaming Brown Racer
I forgave you, Dad, and asked you to forgive me. Your heart attack occurred early in the morning on November 30, 1994. I was aboard the USS Tripoli, returning to the states after a long six months at sea when I received notice. The Chaplain came to my stateroom to inform me and leave me a copy of the Red Cross message. The message said … Continue reading As You Lay Dying
When we moved into our new home on Trilby Avenue in Tampa in 1967, after living in Holland for three years, I thought we would stay there a while. But we only lived in that house for two months before packing up and moving to a brand new house in northeast Tampa. One day, I knocked a clapboard off the side of the house while … Continue reading Turkey In The Straw
I didn’t know what cutoffs were until I moved to Tampa, Florida with my family after living in Holland for three years. My next door neighbor, Terry Parrish, a boy three years older than my seven years, walked over to me on our first day at the new house while I helped dad unload the car of suitcases, the old beat-up red metal cooler with … Continue reading The Red Metal Cooler
My friend Andy was eleven years old. He lived in an old, old house on Bearss Avenue in Tampa. Bearss was properly pronounced ‘Bears’ but some folks drew out the second ‘s’ until it sounded like Bare-ass. When things were slow at Andy’s house and we were bored, when it was raining and we had to stay indoors so we wouldn’t run in the puddles … Continue reading My Friend Andy
Writers Envy 