Shouldn’ta left your keys out, Pops
One summer, when I was 10 or 11, my older brother and I “borrowed” our father’s golf cart from the cart shed at the country club1. It was my brother’s idea. I was just along for the ride. Or not, as it turned out. (My father was playing golf at the time. He played golf… Continue reading
This blog started out as letters to my dog maizie but devolved into meaningless observations from a half-deaf cancer alumnus introvert navigating the noise you other people make.