You try not to cry. Absolutely mind-blownby the ability, the skill,the prowess, the intensity of hisparts, his movement, his seamless integrationwith this group, a groupthat plays and movesas if it were one body. The tug comes from different directions. On the one hand, you miss him. He has been away from home for nearly sixContinue reading “#572: On Seeing Your Son Perform at the University of Dayton Arena with Pulse Percussion”
Tag Archives: parenting
#558: Xenia, Ohio in Four Movements
I We’re in Ohio, outside of Daytonin a town called Xenia, stayingat a Hampton Hotel, where theideal of the mythic guest-friendship is somewhat wanting. All the fixturesare installed off-kilter or crooked,the bathroom door came off itsglider, trapped my wife in there,I almost lost myfingers trying to free her,and the toilet seat is broken. No oneContinue reading “#558: Xenia, Ohio in Four Movements”
#556: Dylan
Dylan The night before the trip, visiting with a dear friend, I drink a beer after 60 days without alcohol. I have another beer when I get home. I feel like a million bucks. It’s a question of when to stop, which seems like a revelation. At the newly refurbished and beautified Portland airport lobby, weContinue reading “#556: Dylan”
On the Ninth Day of 2025. . .
. . .I didn’t feel sad about my son having to fly back to Southern California today until about an hour after I got back home from the airport. Little things irk me. The dogs. The general questions about what to have for dinner. My wife’s questions about a mysterious charge to our bank accountContinue reading “On the Ninth Day of 2025. . .”
On the Sixth Day of 2025. . .
. . .I was on that meditation cushion at 7:45, not out of some overzealous enthusiasm for an early start, but because I had a Telehealth appointment at 8:30. My doctor has covid, so the in-person appointment was moved to the computer. He seemed healthy, his usual self, in the zoom meeting, but the protocolContinue reading “On the Sixth Day of 2025. . .”
A Journal of the Plague Year: #8
I think the resident teenager is depressed. He is not content to stay at home or to go without visitors. The company of his parents does not thrill him. They coax him to come out, are successful from time to time, in small doses finding him in good spirits, but more often than not, theyContinue reading “A Journal of the Plague Year: #8”
#347: A Prose Poem Meditation on the Penultimate Day of National Poetry Month by the American English Teacher in His Potentially Penultimate Professional Year, Ending in a Rhyming Couplet
The natives are restless, the 9th graders are rowdy, won’t stop talking, interrupt almost every teacher phrase with chatter, and because my intern has the class, I am completely unruffled. It’s the penultimate day of National Poetry Month and this is my penultimate poem in prose in the April of my potentially penultimate school yearContinue reading “#347: A Prose Poem Meditation on the Penultimate Day of National Poetry Month by the American English Teacher in His Potentially Penultimate Professional Year, Ending in a Rhyming Couplet”
#224: Early Summer Loss
On this hot June evening, my son and I listen to new music in the cool basement, staying up late, having a pretty darn good time. Before bed, though, one more chore: fold and put away the laundry in a pile on the bed upstairs. O horrors, as I’m folding I see these little curled upContinue reading “#224: Early Summer Loss”
#171: Penultimate Poem for April: A Review of Last Night’s Tantrum
Last night’s temper tantrum was a resounding success. Let us consider the salient features of the tantrum and see to what heights of glory were reached by last night’s specimen. Usually, a tantrum begins with some struggle right before bedtime, typically involving the cessation of play and the transition upstairs. This was most clearly evident. Ad electronics. ThereContinue reading “#171: Penultimate Poem for April: A Review of Last Night’s Tantrum”
#135: The Eight Year Old Uses Tweezers To Pull A Sliver Out of His Daddy’s Hand
This happened yesterday, for real, and it was one of those events in parenting, perfectly mundane, nearly inconsequential, that nevertheless felt poignant in that moment, and today even more powerful as parents in my state again lose their children to guns. It breaks my heart. Love your kids. The Eight Year Old Uses Tweezers ToContinue reading “#135: The Eight Year Old Uses Tweezers To Pull A Sliver Out of His Daddy’s Hand”
michael jarmer 