Stories tagged fathers

Straight Out of the Can

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My other brother, Mike, has been camping out with the Carter boys down the street. For breakfast, he had beans, straight out of a can, and they were the best thing he ever ate. “These are the best,” he told them. “The best beans?” Joe, t

Car

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My father brought home a turquoise Porsche with red leather upholstery. My sister and I were small, eight and six, and fit tightly in the jumpseats behind my parents.We went for a ride, tooled around Rome, circled the Colosseum, showing off for the people looking. My father…

Ambulance

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Once you start telling the truth it's hard to quit. You look around and reasons are everywhere. It's like a new appliance, truth-telling, a can opener that's so good you barely have to turn it.On the phone my sister asks me why I don't come out and see her in San…

Serial Killer

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Once Mom finally came to terms with the fact that my brother was gay, she became convinced he was a serial killer. “He has all the signs,” she told me as she trimmed my hair. “Signs?” I asked, watching her in the…

Pinned

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Stuttering is like herpes. Only disclose it to people who have to know.

Out of That Bed 1963

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My father's hands were huge. His left knuckles gashed as a kid when he rode his bike too close to a moving train. When his fingers fisted around a glass, the scarred joints bulged from his grip like blind eyes.

Fifth of July

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On the day my grandmother was buried, my grandfather shucked corn.

Big Slide

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The screams and howls of other people's children set him on edge. But he struggled to stay cheerful. They had season passes, so the visits there cost nothing and it had consequently become a weekly tradition to go. The children had not, as far as he could

Dreamcatchers

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Two writers sat down for a meal, carefully avoiding any talk of their art.

The Urine Pearls

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“No, dad, I've never seen urine colored pearls.”

Push Broom

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Three short jabs at the concrete, a shuffling half step and a crack of the broom head. Left to right. A quarter turn. Circling and corralling the amassing pile. Over and over and over until the task was complete. I don't recall ever seeing him dance but t

The Common Cold

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There was dad sitting at the table, wide awake, reading glasses on nose, pen in hand above a Doppler graph of numbers on paper, one of many now-lost theorems, looking up as his son walked into the room.

About My Dad

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My dad drove a Model A Roadster and had a photo taken of him on a hunting trip up in Wisconsin with one leather boot up on the running board and a .22 caliber pistol in his hand like Ernest Hemingway and Clark Gable rolled into one My dad ro

An Unreasonable Request

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My father continued to look over a copy of ‘Their Eyes were Watching God.’ He was penniless in his enthusiasm.

The Last Birthday Party

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The boy giggled, splashing his father and howling at the cold.