I Wrote the Book I Was Born to Write

Fifty years is a long time to prepare for a single sentence. I did not know I was preparing. I thought I was living, which I was, and writing, which I was, and teaching, which I was, and publishing, which I was. I thought the Fractional Fiction novels and the EleMenTs trilogy and the Prairie Voice reporting and the Human Meme episodes and the dramatic literature and the ASL linguistics and the cultural criticism were separate projects, separate impulses, separate rooms in the interior country I have been building since I was old enough to read. They were not separate. They were all rehearsals for this.

Continue reading → I Wrote the Book I Was Born to Write

From Barbie to Borrowing: Hanging Out with Dad

I am convinced that my father was born with a newspaper in one tiny hand and a neck tie instead of an umbilical cord. I mean this in the most complimentary way possible; the man has a work ethic that can make any zealous overachiever feel lazy. As a kid, I hardly appreciated or even noticed how tirelessly he worked to support my family and me.

Continue reading → From Barbie to Borrowing: Hanging Out with Dad

The Grand Unification Theory… (…and How I Lost My Cosmic Direction in the Contemplation of the Unknowable)

by Steve Gaines

Several years ago, as an adjunct teacher of television production, I was responsible for a tutorial in the fine points of distance learning while with the University of Nebraska Lincoln. I had two post doctoral students from India who were both physicists. Both these very intelligent students could not understand how I was so interested in their field of study, but still so incapable of understanding its finer points. I wrote the following piece for their benefit. I must admit that it did not help them accept my ignorance in any way. But it did occupy me for a day or two. And its basic sub-text still rings true.

Continue reading → The Grand Unification Theory… (…and How I Lost My Cosmic Direction in the Contemplation of the Unknowable)

Batman Killed By His Dead Father

Batman is dead. His own dead father killed him.

Continue reading → Batman Killed By His Dead Father

Walgreens Knows Who's Your Daddy

Walgreens — the largest drugstore chain in America — announced this week that they are selling over-the-counter DNA home paternity tests.

Continue reading → Walgreens Knows Who's Your Daddy

Was Jesus Born of a Roman Raping?

I was startled to read today that Jesus — yes, THAT Jesus — may have been the child born from a Roman raping of his mother, Mary.

Continue reading → Was Jesus Born of a Roman Raping?

Christian Brando Dies a Cursed Life

Christian Brando is dead.  Was he killed by his life — or by the sins of his dead father, Marlon Brando?

Continue reading → Christian Brando Dies a Cursed Life

The Decider: When a Father Fails a Son

There is no greater crushing experience — or necessary duty — than when a father must tell a son he is not good enough; he does not measure up; he is not the man he was born to be:

FATHER: I know you tried, but you did not make the football team.

SON: But Dad! I went to every practice! I did my best! I did everything you and the coach asked.

FATHER: Yes, you did everything you could but it wasn’t enough, son. There are other boys who play ball better than you. You just don’t have the talent. I’m sorry.

SON: You lied to me! You told me I could do anything I wanted if I only tried!

FATHER: You just aren’t good enough to play football but that doesn’t mean we can’t try something else.

Continue reading → The Decider: When a Father Fails a Son

A Day for Fathers

Today, at least in the United States, we celebrate Father’s Day, a day to honor every father for being just that – a father. On this occasion, I would like to write a little something about my own father, and what a tremendous impact he has had on my life, perhaps without fully realizing it.

Quality Time
Looking back on the last twenty-five or so years, or at least what I can remember of them (I am about to turn twenty-six, quite a scary number for a person who became an “adult” thirteen years ago, as it were) some of my happiest memories involve my father. This ranges from the variety of memory of us actively doing things, simply spending time together watching television or a film, and even some of the many conversations that we’ve had over the years.

Two of my favorite sub-categories of the “doing things” category would definitely be “going grocery shopping” and “going to garage sales.” Every Sunday, for a long time during my childhood, my father would go to the supermarket and I would go along to help him. It thusly came as a surprise to me when I heard that in most households the mother was the one who did the shopping for food. It seemed beyond comprehension. I suppose to a certain extent, what one experiences in ones own life, prior to seeing “outside” examples, seem the “standard” and normal as it were. My father was (and still is) a huge fan of clipping coupons. It is from here that I grew fond of the art of buying food in larger quantities when on sale, and watching for trends in price.

This also came through in our other wonderful “doing things” sub-category, that of going to garage sales. This also was largely done when I was younger, though we still do it once in a blue moon on a rare Sunday when I am in New Jersey and we see a sign for a garage sale on the street. What would happen during Garage Sale season (from the early spring until the mid to late fall, when the weather permitted it of course) we would go to about a dozen garage sales every weekend and find lots of really nice things for not much money. Numerous lessons on careful spending habits were learned here, not that I always find myself applying them, of course. I don’t think I would be such a big fan of half.com if it weren’t for going to garage sales with my father.

Continue reading → A Day for Fathers

For My Father

by Noemi Szadeczky-Kardoss

Dad!

For the first time in my life, I don’t know which way to go.

When I was little, it was easy. I just had to follow the arrows, and they lead me to you. You drew them on the sidewalks with white chalk so that I would find my way from the playground to your workplace. Do you remember? You used to let me play as long as I wanted, but you never stayed with me. The work couldn’t wait, you used to say. But before you left, you always made sure the arrows were still visible on the sidewalks. If the rain had washed them away, you drew them again.

Continue reading → For My Father