Forty years Leroy was a doorman at a nice hotel in a big city. He was a country boy the day he got the job because he was tall and the uniform fit, the manager s…

What if after Browne has gone one of us discovers who Browne was… leads the rally to his room before the maid has time to broom the web… retrieve from underneath the bed

A woman was seated next to me as we waited for the debate to sta… The candidates were late taking th… She said she shouldn’t have come because she couldn’t vote for eith…

You drive down the same country road every day at dawn and see through plumes of dust

As autumn turns colder there’s only one moth fluttering at midnight around the porch light. He’s the last of the flock

Jesus, can we talk? Some folks say you’re coming back any day now but many of them have been saying that for years. They say it could happen tomorrow, or maybe next week, and they’ve al...

I like to watch master chefs on television do their thing. My favorite is Jacques Pépin when he has to chop an onion. No one chops an onion faster.

Dither of blue jays bickering at the feeder. Doves eat well below Donal Mahoney

You have to be married at least 30 years to know what your wife is thinking before she says it aloud. More than 40 years to know

Miss Goody Two-Shoes’ sweaters aren’t too tight, skirts aren’t too straight and heels aren’t too high. She’s a swan gliding

Easter Brunch is a big deal in the metropolis where Fred lives… Restaurants run their ads Ash Wednesday through Good Frida… Years ago brunch began at 11

They’re widows, old and gray, bent over a quilting frame, sewing to meet a deadline for the next raffle

I was warm and toasty, curled up, napping in amniotic fluid, without a worry when suddenly

Zenobia Jackson told Officer Murphy that her husband, Rufus, was 73 years old and “a wonderful man when he was awake” but for the past year he had been jerking “something terrible” duri...

Six months ago an old black couple moved into an old brick house on a block of old white people. A dither erupted over the fences