The Barn Dance That Built a House
The call came at ten past midnight on a Monday in January, and nobody phones a sixty-four-year-old woman at that hour with good news. It… Read more
The Paper My Father Kept in His Wallet
I was sitting on my father’s kitchen floor with my back against the oven door when I understood that I was not going to be… Read more
The Casket Ottis Built for Arlis
The first sound of it came through the bedroom wall at twenty minutes to five in the morning, a long dry rasp of a handsaw… Read more
What the Scrap Pile Was Really For
The city of Vandalia had my scrap pile on the agenda as Item 6, right after the vote on the new culvert on Third Street… Read more
The Steeple I Painted Every Ten Years
My right hand let go on the ninth rung. I did not tell it to. I was reaching for the tenth with my left, the… Read more
The Last Load Out of Delmore
I told my wife to stay home on the morning of my last run, and she said “All right” a little too fast. I have… Read more
