The Hurt House

  It belonged to me, partly, for a short time.  The image above, of it reduced to a smoldering heap, atop its cinder block foundation, should make me sad, but doesn't.  Although I sympathize with its current settlers, displaced and robbed of their belongings, I'm glad it's gone.  If I'd been notified while it was a blaze, I…

Bully Bested

His friends called him 'Port'. He stood a big man, massive in comparison to us as children.  Calves, the size of footballs, carried the load of his muscular frame and well hydrated beer belly, hidden underneath a thick mane of wavy grey hair, worn long, beneath a greasy, frayed ball cap.  For spring, summer and fall he…