Category: Short Story

One recent, pleasant evening, I was sitting on my front porch reading the Atlantic. The Atlantic used to be known as Atlantic Monthly, but has recently gone “bi.” Most think of the Atlantic as a high quality, thoughtful magazine composed of great writing, good articles …

“Jake, we’ve picked the last of the cotton. The dust on me is thicker than the clothes I got on.  Maybe it’s time we move on.” “Prob’ly right, Leon. I hear tell we can pick up some work harvestin’ corn over in Colorado. I’ve had …

We fly through life on a Harley or a HondaSearching for meaning in the way out yonder What’s happened before won’t kill what lies aheadWe have to go on or wind up dead Every time we fail and fallWe gotta go on and crash through …

I sit in my seat and watch the folks come in. It’s a wonderful, diversified collection ofsenior citizens who come to the center every Thursday to hear the band, dance, and feel youngagain. There is a volunteer band of some ten or so musicians which …

Walking across a parking lot on a gloriously cool, pleasant night in Port Aransas,Texas, I was feeling most content. We had completed a wonderful celebratory dinner offresh oysters, shrimp and red fish. Jan and I were in Port Aransas for the weekendcelebrating our fortieth wedding …

I met Lily, the girl of my dreams, in the summer of ’64 while we both worked atthe Stanley Hotel in Estes Park, Colorado. We were both students at LSU but hadnever met. Things happened fast in the mountains at 8000 feet. We were in …

A 130 year old Pecan Tree Standing in the back lot of Rio Robles (an over 55 retirement community) is theoldest retiree in the area, a venerable 130 year old pecan tree. The old tree, which I callMax because of the maximum pecan output he …

We’re sittin’ on my patio in front of a firepit. It’s just enough flame tocreate a little warmth and a little mood. My turntable is hooked up to my guitaramp and my Peavey speakers. We’re listenin’ to some record albums, not CDs,just lettin’ the words …

​​I always liked this bar; it had a feel to it. ‘Olive or Twist’, sounds like a martini bar, but it was really whatever you wanted it to be. Dark wood, mirrored background, comfortable bar stools, lots of exposed bar ware and liquors all reminded …

“Who was that guy just left the café?” “Cornbread, Cornbread Landry.” “Why they call him that?” “You oughta’ see him when he sits down to eat. Don’t make no difference what meal it is. He’s always got a skillet full o’ cornbread next to his …