This week began the demolition of another of my childhood landmarks, what I knew as Crestwood Plaza in the suburbs of St. Louis. When I heard a couple years ago that it was going to fall, I felt a need to be there for part of the event, to see its demise for myself. But now I am not so sure I want to do that. I feel like I have personally witnessed enough of my past being physically erased and should keep my attention instead on my future. But I can’t help seeing my life as an internet video that is playing faster than it is loading, the live action bar at the bottom of the screen methodically gaining on the one representing the unknown story yet to come. Continue reading
Punkin was a zig-zagger when we walked her. The grass was always greener on the other side of the sidewalk, from where she had just crossed and now wanted back again. It was just annoying enough to make me proclaim to Jennifer, “I will teach our next dog to ‘heel.'” Raisin had other ideas.