It goes something like this: Here’s to cops. The beat cops: uniforms, flatfoots, the rookies and the vets. The men in blue – and the women – who get called everything your mother told you not to say, back when you were a kid and remembered what it was like to respect other people. The … [more]
Memories? Well, yeah…
A lot of people maintain strong opinions, but I’m not sure how to respond to Memorial Day. A good friend reminds his fellow Americans that there’s no “happy” in a Memorial Day greeting; that it is to be construed as a pensive remembrance. Another friend makes a cogent argument for cheerful remembrance, with a toast … [more]
On not giving a fuck
“Your husband fights dirty,” the email announced to Pretty Wife, and she was right. I do. I’m not my dad, casually and frequently ruthless but so cheerful on a daily basis that he personifies his own smarmy, self-assumed nickname, “Smilin’ Jack.” I only smile when I mean it, and I may not be able to … [more]
Scuffs and Patches
Smalldaughter’s tone was polite but imperative. It was the second sentence that moved me into a sprint that made my back quit hurting. I heard her voice echo down the hall. “Jack, I need you. “Ruby got hit by a car.” The girls’ trust is touching. I wasn’t as calm as they are when I … [more]
Weekend Dalliance
Felt a little guilty pulling up the Lynnwood Convention Center (exit 181B from I5 north, for those of you playing along at home) in a mere car, but I put a few miles on a couple of bikes this weekend and realized there’s a midwinter to middle age and it’s cold there. In the parking … [more]
Neighborhoody
Damn, but I hate it when people sneak up on me. NSTIW with my head under the van hood, poking at the battery terminals and trying not to short-spark my ratchet again, when I <heard a scrape / felt a shadow / turned around for no good reason> and there he was, scuffing his way … [more]