Sting-Rays and Summer Nights - 1974
Elmira, 1974 We shouldn’t have been that far from home. That’s what I understand now. But that summer the air was thick and bright, and Mom said, “Just around town,” which in Lincoln Street language meant anywhere the road kept going.
The Grammar of Staying
Midwinter, 1980–81 The cold had a grammar then. It conjugated the body into ache and wait, into not-yet. Doorways learned my outline. Cardboard kept the minutes from breaking apart.
First Kings of Elmira - 1975
In the summer of 1975, the grass along Eldridge Park field ‘neath the old wooden roller coaster was patchy, tall in places, thin in others - but to us, it was emerald, endless, a kingdom under the slow, benevolent sun.
The Wolfman on Lincoln Street
I was eleven, and the house was so quiet it felt like it had stopped breathing. Downstairs, my family was watching some dumb show - Dad in his easy chair, Skipper curled on his lap, my mother probably knitting, my brother and sister laughing at canned jokes from the set.
The Brass Ring
A remembrance at Eldridge Park in Elmira, NY At the edge of the hills, where the air holds the scent of mown grass and river wind, a diamond-shaped field gathers the last of the sun. Dad laces his cleats,
The Mystery on the Driveway
The motorcycles rounded a bend in the road and before the boys lay a wide stretch of open highway, descending in a gradual slope. To their right lay Barmet Bay, sparkling in the afternoon sun. At the bottom of the slope was a grassy expanse that opened out on the beach, the road at this point being only a few feet above the sea level. The little meadow was a favorite parking place for motorists, as their cars could regain the road easily. - Hardy Boys, The Shore Road Mystery
Warm Vents and an Angry God
I remember the house breathing through long metal lungs, forced hot air hissing through the vents like some practical American dragon, its warm breath sweeping the floorboards, finding my ankles, scattering dust motes into constellations.
Inheritance, Poured Neat
People are trapped in history, and history is trapped in them. - James Baldwin Evening eased itself into the pub the way habit does - unannounced, welcome.
Lessons in Graphite
if shame had a scent, it would be cedar and metal. I snap clean in half before I even begin - a brand-new pencil, straight as my promise, cracking beneath my own weight. Second grade.
The Woolworth’s Combo
I rode the bus that smelled like rain And vinyl seats and yesterday, With coins that clinked like nervous dreams All counting up my hourly pay.
The Fog at Elmira Heights
A Remembrance in Shadows and Smoke ...if we don't wake up to find ourselves safe in our beds, it could come again. To the ships at sea who can hear my voice, look across the water, into the darkness. Look for the fog. - Adrienne Barbeau as Stevie Wayne
The Night My Courage Clocked Out
A Memoir of Fear in Someone Else’s Living Room November 24, 1979 Sweetest singing I ever heard. And a feeling like drowning. And eyes...eyes! - Mike Ryerson, Salem's Lot
