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"From the Back Porch"

Found a total of 122 page(s) matching this tag.

  • /columns/back-porch/
    Moby Mashed Potato
    Summary: I’ve just come in from shoveling snow from the third consecutive winter storm this week. This, with the cartilage-free zones of my knees which are about to be guillotined from my legs and replaced with metal and plastic joints next month.

  • /columns/back-porch/
    The Middle of the Night is a Weird Place
    Summary: They play a strange, relentless rhythm, and the more I try to ignore them, the more their hypnotic beat begins to make me crazed. I start to imagine things as I attempt to shut them out.

  • /columns/back-porch/
    To Honor the Noble Dandelion
    Summary: In April, we got a flyer in the mail from a company called “Lawn Dawgs”, with a photo of a big fat dandelion in the grass. The flyer said, “The Dandelion is the Number One Nemesis of Lawn Owners.” I say, “Cow puckey!” On this beautiful August day, I was glad to find a single dandelion in my grass, so I bid it a friendly howdy do.

  • /columns/back-porch/
    Stalking Louisa May
    Summary: I had always strongly identified with Jo as a child, and felt a deep reverence for the world Ms. Alcott created with her books about the March family...

  • /columns/back-porch/
    The First Boy I Loved
    Summary: I saved my allowance money to buy him special gifts for Christmas. I got him cool things that I thought he would appreciate. Once it was a rubber chicken; another time it was plastic vomit.

  • /columns/back-porch/
    The Woods Were Alive With Bogey
    Summary: When I tried to catalogue what it was that I loved about him, I found that I couldn’t name it exactly, but I began to summon him in my heart from across the unnamed worlds of the universe. An uncanny mood emanated from the woods, and I noticed that the trees were the same color as Bogey.

  • /columns/back-porch/
    Missing Vinny
    Summary: So, we are grieving. I am experiencing the grieving process as a hungry gnaw emanating from my cat heart gland. There is something innately comforting about cat presence. To paraphrase something Joni Mitchell once said, “cats are the heartbeat of the house”.

  • /columns/back-porch/
    Thoughts on a Winter Evening
    Summary: While walking at twilight one evening, I heard a large congregation of birds in the trees beyond some railroad tracks. They were far away, high in the bare trees against the night sky.

  • /columns/back-porch/
    Sunday Mornings with Fen
    Summary: I’m awake and I enter the kitchen, which is lit by a small table lamp. My father is wearing a red plaid bathrobe, seated at the table with his legs crossed, the top leg bobbing up and down as it does, sticking out, white skinned and sparse-haired. He has a cup of coffee within reach, the newspaper is unfolded across his lap and part of the table, and one hand holds a bowl of cereal.

  • /columns/back-porch/
    Bathed in God’s Love
    Summary: What a lovely woman! The feeling of kindness and sincerity was palpable. We entered the house, which was beautifully arranged with art, plants, musical instruments and a wholesome feeling of care and calm. Tears came to my eyes almost immediately because I felt such a loving and accepting spiritual atmosphere.

  • /columns/back-porch/
    Grandma's Beauty Shop
    Summary: There were gigantic hairdryers that made the ladies look like subjects of brain experiments. Their heads, imbedded with goo, curlers and plastic bags, were tucked beneath the armadillo underbellies of the roaring dryers.

  • /columns/back-porch/
    Reunion with Moose
    Summary: Most fascinating of all was Debbie’s mom, Betty, who was also known as Moose. Now why, you might wonder, would a woman be called Moose? The name “Moose” seems like a nickname for a big strong man -- but Moose was an elegant woman of Greek heritage, with dark eyes and hair, a nice figure and a fabulous sense of humor.

  • /columns/back-porch/
    Hair Loss and World Peace
    Summary: Empty spools in male heads then begin to knock together causing mild disorders in male brains. The subtle yet continuous impact of the knocking spools creates escalating irritation that causes some males to exhibit more aggressive behavior than others. This may happen because of spool size. Some men assume that their spool sizes are bigger than other men’s.

  • /columns/back-porch/
    My Alarm Clocks
    Summary: Oh, the night, the night. What a wondrous place it can be. Snuggly poo under the covers. Comfy, cozy sleep. Comfy pillow, snuggle snuggle. Suddenly, a loud retching scream! Another one! I am awake and I dash to the hallway, imagining that one of my children is puking from their bed. Dazed and confused, I call out, "Who is that? Are you all right?

  • /columns/back-porch/
    Let Them Eat Chicken Soup
    Summary: My sixteen year old son came home from school three days ago and announced, “I can’t breathe.” He pointed to his schnoz. Actually, what he said was more like, “I cad breave. I hab a code in by doze.”

  • /columns/back-porch/
    Iris and the Twenty-One Duck Salute
    Summary: My mother’s birthday was Sunday, August 9th. This year, she would have been eighty-seven years old. The last time I celebrated my mother’s birthday with her, I was fourteen years old. After that, I was either away in California, or Europe or other places every August, until she died in 1983 when I was twenty-seven. This year made 40 years since I had celebrated her birthday with her.

  • /columns/back-porch/
    Insomnia
    Summary: It is a night like any other. I climb the steep staircase to the narrow hallway and enter our bedroom. I set my cup of Sleepytime tea with honey on the end table next to the bed. I begin to read The Body in the Library, a Miss Marple mystery by Agatha Christie.

  • /columns/back-porch/
    The Fryeburg Fair
    Summary: There were pens and pens of sheep that stretched their necks toward us as we passed. Peter and I found that the more we rubbed their woolly heads and spoke to them, the more responsive they became. After scratching and rubbing two hundred or so sheep around the ears and horns, and looking into their eyes, both Peter and I became profoundly uplifted by the palpable love we exchanged with them.

  • /columns/back-porch/
    Taking the Dog for a Swim
    Summary: We have a yellow lab who loves to swim. About once a week we try to take her swimming at a lake or river near the house. We say, “Bye, bye in the car?” And she cocks her head and begins to cry excitedly, trotting back and forth in eager anticipation.

  • /columns/back-porch/
    My Loyal Friend
    Summary: One of my best friends died this week. He was very quiet and small. He weighed thirty pounds. His name was Bogey. He was my dog. Rather than dwelling on the question as to whether dogs have spirits and if they do indeed go to heaven, as the movie suggested, I want to talk about friendship.

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