Red Squirrel on Good Friday
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Red squirrel came running down the tree. It did not look at Chris or me. Its coat glowed where it met the air, And on it ran to business fare . . . Continue reading
Author Archives: Constance McCutcheon
One Fine Schwein
Many people consider the king of the Jungle to be the Lion and he may be, but in the forests around Munich – Ebersberger Forest, Perlacher Forest, Forstenrieder Park – it is the Wildschwein who reigns. In addition to being strong and fierce, I learned one hot summer afternoon that he is also a considerate host. Continue reading
Ich bin Frau
A man entered a stall in the women’s showers and began to wash prior to his swim. Hastily wrapping a towel about myself, I pointed out his mistake. “No,” he corrected me. “I’m a woman.” I was dumbfounded. How to contradict that? But I couldn’t finish my shower unless I did. Continue reading
Peter Prevails
Who I am? Not Peter Prevails, but admit it. Didn’t hearing those syllables genuinely positively impress you? I know nothing about literary things, but I would say there’s alliteration in it and an onomatopoetic effect. Peter Prevails. It sounds great. That’s what I mean with the ‘o’ word. It sounds like you’d prevail. Now, Eddie Wins. That’s a good name, too. I could live with Eddie Wins. Easily. But tell me, which one sounds like you’re trying harder? And is that really what you want them to think? Continue reading
Osip, Me, the Bird
Bright mote, tufted spark, twig dignitary, six-grape lightweight stalker of insects, inconsequential whorl of feathers, how you leaven the world! Such a no-account as you, when do you give up? Continue reading
When Roses Reek — II
When we left you, my father’s long-term care insurance had just denied him long-term care coverage, and we were getting ready to appeal. Then a strange thing happened. The insurer offered to pay back all his premiums. Dad’s eyes lit up. Ramming speed, I said. Continue reading
When Roses Reek
While it is true that my father never read the policy, it is also true that he was hoodwinked. He signed on to a policy called long-term care insurance, expecting at some point to get long-term care coverage. But let’s wink at knucklehead gullibility for now and consider how the policy was introduced to him. Continue reading
How Fundamentalism Titillates
The latest heinous fundamentalist group has pulverized the ancient Arch of Triumph in Palmyra, Syria, and vows to return all such conduits of blasphemy to dust and desert. Too bad the program started so late. There’s an awful lot of crud to remove. But ancient ruins aren’t the only problem. The weaklings who admire them must go, too. Continue reading
Dad’s New Digs
My 94-year-old father dove down the basement stairs backwards June 26, 2015. The aftereffects of that fall signaled a sea change: Dad had to move somewhere safe, like a senior care home. The move was effected, but by the end of the process, I felt I had delivered him over to the devil. Continue reading
A Profitable Slum
Slums don’t just happen. They are engineered by masterminds like Mr. Fab. I know. It’s happening here. Continue reading