“You know, really, pickles aren’t green,” Edna said. She was emptying a jar of koshers into her mouth. Vern, per usual and to remain on the safe side, did not say anything. He kept head down and his brown, work leathered hand dipping the soup spoon into the oatmeal and lifting it into his mouth. … Continue reading Pickles are not Among the Chosen.
I was arrested once. In 1975. The arrest was legitimate—I inadvertently walked out of the University book store without paying for a thirty-five cent notebook. Unfortunately, I had placed the notebook in my pocket to make sure it fit. Odd kid thing to do. But that is what I did. Unfortunately, I did not remove … Continue reading The Joy of Having So Many White Hats to Vouch that You Would Not Steal a Thirty-five Cent Notebook