Author Archives: Ken Greenman

Mr. Tully’s big mutts snuck out of his yard early one morning through the unhitched-back-gate. And me, a Horatio-Alger-ten-year-old-newspaper-boy on City Island, The Bronx, New York, trapped them in Mrs. DeSantes front yard. (The dogs liked me ’cause I all … Continue reading →

I cry easily, now, and, therefore, more often, as I am old. For I’ve been taught by scraping against passing years like an old-Oak-root, creeping through an old cemetery, grinds against coffins buried in its path, by my blood, heart … Continue reading →

The imminent arrival so feared or, by some, so longed for, of the last Eminence we ever meet is never tardy or premature. Timing impecable. Intent, inexorable. No impatience matters. No delaying strategy, effective. It’s here when it gets here. … Continue reading →

The fetus is the result of her parents genes, physiology, and possibility. The baby is the result of his successful gestation and mothers participation. The child is the result of how she parses all those lies and truths whispered to … Continue reading →

I have faith, no more in memories, neither mine nor those of others. The brain clutches moments in its angry or joyous hands and with muscles like a potter at the wheel reshapes whatever happened, that last second or decades … Continue reading →

Sow all your wild oats but not your semen before you’re forty. Don’t consider the M-A-R-R-I-A-G-E word before then but enjoy the joy of your singularity, -to a point- Ideally, bring your virginity to the altar, intact. But, lose your … Continue reading →

So, let the moments between the moments, Linger. Between a gentle caress, right before the kick-off of a Steeler – Patriot game. Between a tearful episode of THIS IS US and the pressing need for pb and j or pop-corn … Continue reading →

At last! a birth of a god we can know, broadcast among us like a dusting of snow. Night disappears in a diamond glow revealing our way into glorious day. Greeted by vagabond kings and a choir of angels protecting … Continue reading →

Came the morning, His widow, smiling and in tears, handed his santuri to me. It was as hard for me to let go of Lyuba, for she smelled of orange blossoms. As I strolled her gravel path towards the little … Continue reading →

I finished my 71st year today. What an inconsequential number. Now, 70! Well, there you’ve reached an auspicious milestone! And that’s something to write about. But, 71? It’s just one more step into what Everest’s sherpas call The Dead Zone, … Continue reading →