Corydon Times

Garden Road - October 25, 2016
Somewhere, a headless horseman holds a flaming pumpkin in one hand, the reigns to a black horse in the other. His soul is in the ether of a revolution. He was introduced to me by otherwise good-willed teachers at the Wayne Elementary School in Corydon, bound in the library, and reinforced on my family’s first television by a farcical cartoon with no end—in the morning, the sun rises above a smashed, decorative gourd. Its tendrils feed off the fear of millennia-old instinct of prey to predator, which drowns at dawn.
Oct 24, 2016, 09:25

Garden Road - October 18, 2016
It is difficult to write when a two-year-old demands your attention. My daughter Jasmine opens the plastic storage container and stands on her diapers, growling. In her short life, she has mastered the art of pushing buttons by waving her arms and shouting words that seem to make sense, but don’t. Her soapbox is her diaper bag.
Oct 17, 2016, 09:10

Garden Road - October 11, 2016
My grandfather always had flowers around his farmhouse of all varieties, all colors. Some were perennial, while others he planted each year. Black ants seemed to revel in the humidity leached from cornstalks, crawling across stems to reveal the globes of peonies. The bulbs felt permanent to the touch, as if they could never be opened, but then blooms from white to red appeared beyond the garden. When my grandparents bent to read the thermometer outside the kitchen window, flowers spoke to them in the language of color. One of my favorites were white chrysanthemums because of their hardiness and ability to survive frost, blooming deeper into autumn. Yet in praising the splendor my grandfather nursed, at the same time, there is nothing quite as picturesque as a timber hillside flushing yellow and orange. As dawn brushes the canopy, shadow darkens clover before lighting the candle of leaves.
Oct 10, 2016, 13:40

Garden Road - October 4, 2016
When I was a senior in high school, my mother bought me a globe for Christmas. The world sat on my bookcase. The Soviet Union and the Berlin Wall had both collapsed a few years before I graduated, therefore more countries crossed this atlas with tan oceans, the Eastern Bloc freed from a doctrine that by law rejected the concept of the existence of God. It was a new earth. Nations were still trying to reconcile the rise in population that will continue to make Democracy more difficult to sustain. Russia was again Dostoyevsky’s country, one with the possibility of both suffering and salvation from suffering, but haunted by anti-Semitism.
Oct 3, 2016, 09:38

Garden Road - September 27, 2016
My parents will have been married 48 years on Sept. 29. On their wedding day, my father’s friends painted his nickname, ‘Weasel,’ with shaving foam onto the side of his car, and it left a permanent impression in the black paint.
Sep 26, 2016, 13:26