Monthly Archives: March 2012

For the Lefties

There’s something about being the fourth of five children that makes one cling to any sign of uniqueness. My young exclusives were that I could do the breakdancing move, “The Worm,” and that I was left-handed. Adults noticed this immediately … Continue reading

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Have a Nice Trip

I stumbled over a dip in the sidewalk, tumbled over my own black boots in the peripheral glance of a polite Turkish man in a Captain’s hat. He didn’t want to look, but my gasp and my subsequent horrified laughter … Continue reading

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Mensch!

On the long day before a set of flights home to Colorado, I helped with a Halloween party in a private Austrian school. My favorite child, Phillip, with a perpetual cowlick at the back of his head, perked up when … Continue reading

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This Too

He had the feeling that everything he saw was a broken-off piece of some giant thing that he had forgotten had happened to him. -Flannery O’Connor. Wise Blood. (Photo from Orta, Italy)

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Richard Gere Was Here

I sought a place to collapse and eat after a day of haplessly wandering Sarajevo map-less and on foot. The choice was made simple when I spotted a man standing in the doorway of his Buregdzinica. He wore a lab … Continue reading

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Next Stop

As usual, stops were not announced on the train. People familiar with the route rushed the hallways as we pulled into a station–or the last scraps of one. The train paused, the people fled, and the machine continued. Ages before … Continue reading

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There’s No Place Like The Last

Basically, like nine-tenths of humanity, I always wanted to be somewhere else, in the place I have just fled from. -Thomas Bernhard. Wittgenstein’s Nephew.

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Not Helpless

I was trudging home from an English lesson with my astounding student, an asylum seeker and former child soldier from Sierra Leone who had the most remarkably shy smile. He could speak English well, but he was now learning to … Continue reading

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This is Grimm

The movies are onto the search, but they screw it up. The search always ends in despair. They like to show a fellow coming to himself in a strange place–but what does he do? He takes up with the local … Continue reading

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You Can Read Over My Shoulder, But You Can’t Come Along

In the shuttle bus to the airplane, I broke into scraps of conversational Turkish with a group of teenaged boys from Kahramanmaraş. Even the boldest among them–a boy with smooth hair and light eyes–was subject to bolts of shyness. They … Continue reading

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