Author Archives: Ken Greenman

A wet, gray Super Bowl Sunday Two great teams face each other across the bloody line. May the best survive. I sit on a hard chair in ICU Room 204. My love sleeps on her breathing bed. She dozes, wakes, … Continue reading →

What would I do if my beautiful silver belle, my wife, who, if I can make her laugh, I’ve justified my life for, at least, that day or eternity, could no longer, because of some grotesque surgical gaff, laugh? The … Continue reading →

I need to see the Spirit in the tree, to hear the Song in the wash of the sea, to walk to a Beat beyond my feet. Else all is stone. Else all is bone. Else my death is naught … Continue reading →

Suddenly, the sun turns a winters dark morning into a glowing blue light. Late Januarys full moon adds her white shine to this lovely illusion. My first step outside for the paper, I sense a scent of Spring just around … Continue reading →

Standing by the side of the urinal so my hair drying wife at the mirror won’t see the pee wizzing into the bowl. That she will hear it hit, hardly matters since only seeing is believing, besides, the tinkling faucet … Continue reading →

When two church schools hit Kings Dominion on a sunny Virginia Spring day, we rode the rides, screaming, ate gooyuy cotton candy, hockey puck burgers, took in a James Taylor concert at the grand band stand. Happily leading my students … Continue reading →

We’ll never see another Woodstock. The 60s could never be now. How could all these isolated I-pads produce a Woodstock? “I’s” have replaced “We’s” in a world so frightened that “alone” is sacred, “My Space” trumps “home” in a heart … Continue reading →

I miss that damn intrusive boom box, lugged on the shoulder of those great “fuck you” fans who said, “I’m diggin’ my music! So are you, like it or not! Enjoy!” I miss being blasted by that blaring cacophony of … Continue reading →

Remember Autumns when you could drive the rural roads to Rutherford VT or Albany, NY to catch the colors? Like clock work. Columbus Day weekend was a good bet. Set your watch by it. Drive up to the Berkshires or … Continue reading →

Buddy, my Golden Retriever, came to my recliner last night to finish my ice cream. He licked the bowl clean, licked his lips and jowels, nuzzled my hand,”Thanks”, plodded back to his bed by the wood stove. Buddy is dead. … Continue reading →