I liked to read a lot as a child, my specialty being books about animals, who of course died on the way to a tear-filled ending.

“Dad, tell me about the old days, when life was normal and we could go out and do things, like play with friends and drive off-Island for adventures.”

This past week Camp Jabberwocky announced it was canceling its summer season due to the coronavirus pandemic.

As I say goodnight to my 12-year-
old daughter Pickle, I ask her if she would like to walk, bike or drive to school the next day.

My daughter Pickle and I are walking the dog yet again, traveling the dirt road loop that stretches around our neighborhood.

I live on an Island filled with wooded trails but for years rarely visited them. My children do not like to ruminate while pondering the burnt orange leaves of fall.

I am rummaging around in my past in Tallahassee, Fla., here for a memorial service for Ned Stuckey-French, a former professor and friend who died too young.

Dwayne (The Rock) Johnson is my spirit animal. My daughter’s too. I suppose I should explain.

From my perch on a park bench I sit and watch my daughter age.

When I was a freshman in high school my hero got his ear chewed off in a bar fight in the parking lot of the Four Roses Bar.