Some short tales go deep. This one by my father goes deeper. I have never been more interested in Arp. This story about a Sunday drive will fire the imagination.
Gloves Off: Love Lives
50% of readers (1 of 2) of my first draft (1 of several) hesitantly recommend this essay. The other 50% of readers say that while wading through all the muck, they were sure they would find a pony in there somewhere.
Dear friend, there is no pony. But be reminded that even the manure of the plow animal has a use in the garden. While I sought to form my ideas in a measured way, I may well have added one cup of words where the recipe called for one teaspoon. Nonetheless, I leave the kitchen and take the meal as it happened.
You have been duly notified and forewarned. The 1960s do that to us: passion lets loose all over the map.