When I was thirteen, I saw the movie Palm Springs Weekend, which was one of those inane Frankie and Annette movies but with Troy Donahue and Connie Stevens. They made it in 1963, the year before I was born, but I was watching this around 1977. Sure,...

A few years back, one of my coworkers called me by the name “Marty,” rather than “Mickey.“ I’d stopped into his office, chatted, and we were saying our farewells when he said it: “Take it easy, Marty.” It took me by surprise, and I didn’t correct him...

I love riding bicycles but learning to ride was clouded by fear, pain and envy. To begin with, we were not a “cool-bike” family. Our bikes weren’t even decent. We got a couple of hand-me-down bikes from our cousins up the street. Or, rather, my older...

It’s been a month since last I picayuned and a lot is going on but, then, I’m not here to tell you everything. This is a picayune. But a couple of perfectly picayune things happened on the way to Shakespeare in the Arboretum. Shakespeare in the Arb T...

Back in high school, I was captain of the baseball team so, at the end of the season, I gave a little speech at the awards banquet. The team chipped-in and we presented a gift to our coaches. I probably said four or five minutes worth of stuff. The s...

Back in 1988, trying to figure out how to learn to be a writer, I signed up for a summer workshop at The University of Iowa. That’s the same place where one of the most famous writing workshops, the Iowa Writer’s Workshop, happens, but this was not t...

I went to The Blind Pig this weekend to hear a band. Unexpectedly, I had to confront two of my greatest fears. The Blind Pig, if I haven’t mentioned it before, is a smallish bar on the northeast edge of downtown Ann Arbor. There’s a raised platform a...

Here is a short, true story: I am four years old and just finished washing myself in the bathtub like a big boy. I watch the whirlpool at the drain and, when it’s all gone, I step out of the tub dripping wet and towel myself dry. Mom has left clean j...

Fulton Avenue in Cleveland runs along the top of the hill overlooking the valley carved by Old Man Creek. There’s a fence in the brush at the top of that hill, and my father found a hole in that fence. I don’t remember how he found it, or if he heard...