Brilliant Redheads
How I dropped my phone into the depths of Lake Martin is still a great and confusing mystery which evidently involves beer.
Sean Dietrich
The International What?
I had a toy rocket when I was a kid. It was made of plastic. The word NASA was printed on it. It was a Saturn V rocket, king daddy of all rockets. The same one that took men to the moon. My GI Joe doll could ride it like a horsey.
The Mourning Scroll, Because It’s Too Early to Read In All Caps
Coffee is ready. Pour said coffee. Check my phone. Look at emails. The first subject line attracts my attention. “YOU ARE NOT A TRUE AMERICAN IF YOU DON’T READ THIS!!!”
I want to be a true American, but for the next few minutes I’ll have to settle for being a fallacious one. Namely, because it’s a little early to be reading anything in all caps.
The Best Barbecue You’ve Never Heard Of: Cherry Wood, Catholic Bears, and Hoosier Gold
We crossed the Indiana state line at noon. It was sunny. Cloudless. The springtime air was dry and pleasant, smelling of apples, IndyCar, and Hoosiers.
Life Itself
This morning I started thinking about you. Mainly, I was thinking about what you’re going through right now. Whoever you are. I don’t know you. I don’t know anything about you. But in a way we know each other because you and I aren’t that different.
FACE VALUE: Your Mom and Your Muscles Want You to Smile
My mother always told me to smile. Especially when I didn’t want to. She often told me to smile when I was sad, when trying on school clothes, or whenever I was forced to eat beef liver at gunpoint.
The Dog in Silk Pajamas
I am in the hotel elevator with a guy and his dog. The dog is wearing pajamas. They are white pajamas with polka dots.
“Say hello to Kevin,” says the man with the dog.
Kevin wags his tail, looking at me. Waiting for my salutation.
To the Person I’ve Been Watching; A Field Guide to the 8.3 Billion of Us
I like you. I like everything about you. I like your smile. Your teeth, no matter how crooked. Your physical shape, no matter which shape that is.
The Taste of a Triangle; Learning to Taste the World in Small Bites
We walked into a packed Waffle House. All booths taken. Two cooks and two waitresses running offense. “Let’s sit at the bar,” said Morgan.
The Woman Who Heard the Light
The year was 1939. The month was September. Only days after World War II broke out. The woman was so moved to tears when she read the headlines of war in the papers. Her first thought was, “Another war?”
The Raccoon Relief Act
With everything going on in the world, with all the wars, international conflicts, and high-stakes political maneuvers, I’m sure you’re all anxious to hear about what’s going on with the problem of legalized raccoon ownership in Tennessee.
Caught Between a Rock and a Rockwell
I have a thing for Norman Rockwell. When I was a kid, I collected Rockwell memorabilia in the form of calendars, picture books, and posters. I clipped illustrations from books and plastered them upon my bedroom walls.
The Continental Divide
I’m in a hotel lobby. It’s breakfast. We are waiting in line for our gruel. Guests congregate around the coffee urn like puppies at the teat until they drain the urn and leave nothing but dregs for us tired, huddled masses.
Unexpected Human in the Bagging Area
There were tattoos on his forearms. Not the new kind of fancy tats, multi-colored and expensive. These were a few grades below battleship tattoos. Crudely done. Almost like the inkwork inmates give themselves with guitar wire and BIC pens.
The Princess and the Pinto Beans; Finding Hope in Aisle Four
I was blue. I had just watched the news. Wars were raging. Bombs were dropping. People dying. All God’s children were bickering over the price of rice in China in the rain.
Wise Old Words
“My son, Jason, is getting married on Friday, and I am responsible for his wedding toast. I’d like some wisdom to pass on, the only problem is, I don’t have any.”
I Think, Therefore I Algorithm
I woke up, staggered from my bedroom, and made coffee. I pulled out my phone, and commenced to scroll social media.
On my screen, a young woman, in pajamas, dancing in her kitchen. She was maybe mid twenties, with a pierced nose, and extremely hairy armpits.
Where the Redhead Grows
Sometimes, as a writer you will find yourself as a guest on TV shows promoting stuff. You’ll be seated on a television set that is an exact duplication of a family room. Except, of course, this family room has nuclear studio lights that cause third-degree sunburns.
Words in My Palm; Echoes from Ivy Green
I’ve chased you all over the US. I visited your grave in the Washington National Cathedral, I got chills there, too. I performed in a historic theater where you once lectured. Chills. I drove past the house where you died in Connecticut. Chills.
A True Writer
Dear Young Writers, You know who you are. You’re reading this on your phone, computer, tablet, or maybe a soggy newspaper you found in a gutter.