I’ll always have chickadees
read more…: I’ll always have chickadeesO P I N I O N TINY WHITE BOX By Keith Howard Rob was almost killed by an elephant. If
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Weddings, anniversaries, engagements, Valentine’s Day love notes, military promotions or accolades, graduation shout-outs, obituaries or tributes to a loved one, pet obituaries/tributes, and other personal news and milestones shared by you, the community.
Also a place where conversation happens – from Letters to the Editor and Op/Eds to The Soapbox, you’re welcome to tell us how you really feel.
From here to nowhere
read more…: From here to nowhereIn Manchester, every inch of space is spoken for, with billboards and coffee shops clamoring for your attention. Out here, the land is the boss, indifferent to whether you notice or not. It’s in this vastness that you realize being far apart isn’t about miles; it’s about the silence between thoughts, the moment when the world stops spinning long enough for you to catch your breath and feel, really feel, the weight of nothing.
Dead stones, potential live birth
read more…: Dead stones, potential live birthO P I N I O N TINY WHITE BOX By Keith Howard I’m writing this from Windhoek, Namibia, a
Hope you like the new me
read more…: Hope you like the new meThis column is my version of hitting rewind, catching you up on what the hell has been happening since I last put pen to paper. Think of it as a crash course in my current reality.
Tiny White Box: ‘Too Wonderful for Anybody to Realize You’
read more…: Tiny White Box: ‘Too Wonderful for Anybody to Realize You’Please excuse the rest of this column. I take pride in my contrarian nature, in my ability to identify clouds on any horizon. Today, though, is not a day for me to be philosophical or intellectual. It’s a day to freaking celebrate!
An Unorthodox Man’s Unorthodox Search for a New Home
read more…: An Unorthodox Man’s Unorthodox Search for a New HomeI’ve decided it’s time to buy a home, preferably one with running hot and cold water, a flush toilet and more than the box’s 72 square feet, of which fewer than 27 square feet is floor space. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.
The Journey to Sit Still (with Big News)(or, honestly, a tease of it)
read more…: The Journey to Sit Still (with Big News)(or, honestly, a tease of it)I came north last August, planning for the beauty of the fall, the frigid isolation of winter, the softness of spring and the joys of summer. Some of those things have happened. The rest won’t, at least not for me, but I’ll get to that by and by.
The Burning Logic Trap
read more…: The Burning Logic TrapMr. Lefave was a kind man, a smart man, a patient man. In other words, he was the sort of teacher I wanted to upset, whose face I wanted to turn red, whose tongue I wanted to turn to butter with my nonsense. In the words of Bugs Bunny, I was a stinker and I wanted to make Mr. Lefave my stinkee.
No Friendly Direction But Down – Six Feet Down: A Larissa Update
read more…: No Friendly Direction But Down – Six Feet Down: A Larissa UpdateSuicide. Offing yourself. Doing yourself in. That seemed like the only option to me 10 years ago, and that’s where Larissa is now. Each night she passes out with the hope she’ll die in her sleep, and when she wakes up in the morning with a foggy and throbbing head, shaky hands and a bellyful of dread, she asks for the courage to kill herself today. So far, thank God, she hasn’t found it.
For Him Who Has Ears to Plug—The Tuba and Me
read more…: For Him Who Has Ears to Plug—The Tuba and MeAn arrhythmic tuba player does not blend in. Just as gluttony leads to weight gain leads to mockery, so a bad tuba player’s sins are readily apparent to all with ears to hear. Or plug.