Author Archives: Ken Greenman

At twenty-three I was best man at my fathers second wedding in the United Nations chapel on 46th Street. His soon to be sister-in law was maid of honor. She was beautiful in that ” Black Irish of the fairies” … Continue reading →

My father, a widower, married my wife’s mother, divorced, in Trinity Church last year. They are not so old… SURPRISE!!!!! They had a son, Michael the 3d. (Grandpa was the 1st, Dad the 2nd, I am Kenneth Michael but Dad … Continue reading →

Would that the ponds mirrored surface, the silent, breezeless meadow be just that. But pause for a peaceful moment. Wait for the flash from beneath the glass, the sudden rustle in the carpet of grass. A dragonfly swallowed in the … Continue reading →

Where is Osamas soul now? Secure in Allahs arms? Burning in eternal flames? Sitting under some tree some where, sipping lemon tea, speaking freely with Bolivar, Lenin, Stonewall, Gandhi, Ho Chi Min, Che and other jihadists who fought with all … Continue reading →

Magnolias mired in mud after the sudden spring storm. Pink blossoms, shredded, strewn like lungs, fingers, eyeballs of boys blasted by the freak quirk of battle. At least pity the petals, for the world won’t care to halt the horror … Continue reading →

Jarring jolt to meet you, suddenly in some public place, a stop-n-shop, a bank lobby, a Cold Stone store. Our moments are personal, planned, etherial, of another world, private sabbaticals. Not of the merchants. Not of the others.

When something hangs heavy over your head, it isn’t only heavy over your head. It’s wrapped tightly around your throat so you can barely breath, your lungs getting just a cup of the gallons of air you need. The weight … Continue reading →

Surprise!!!! We don’t give a 3 year old a Happy Birthday party, piled high with enough presents to bury the toddler 3 times over for nothing. Know why we do it? Because we’re 3 years older since she was born … Continue reading →

What matters about the pool is where you play. Wade, sedately, in the three foot section, splash, tentatively, in navel high water, grasp, tightly, the floating line marking the slope into twelve foot depths, duck under the rope, venturing into … Continue reading →

I don’t think Dad was senile while he chased women at the nursing home. Women: Nurses, Patients, Visitors, Mirages. I think he just enjoyed the chase, until, finally, the nice night nurse Nancy put on her Nikes and ran Dad … Continue reading →