Author: John P. O'Grady
Election Day
They sit for hot dogs as well as cheese, Election Day on the summit of Wittenberg Mountain, then it was on to Cornell and Slide (highest in the Catskills), followed by a long stroll...
Fellow Traveler
Made the quarterly trek to the car dealership. Had the oil changed and snow tires put on. “Oh, and your link assembly is broken along the back axle, in two places. It won’t pass...
A Ride in the Country
Right about now we’re standing somewhere out in the sticks in front of an unlikely monument looking at its polished jet surface, bit of a reflection coming off, maybe just a glint of late...
Such Stuff As Cremains Are Made From
Postcard from the parlors of Rip Van Winkle Real Estate, found lying on the floor of Pandora’s Tavern. The back of the card reads: “Spectacular Panoramic View of Catskill Mountains! Build Your Dream Crematorium...
Making the Rounds
Load up the car with this week’s garbage and head out. Stop at the post office, collect junk mail, toss it on the passenger seat, head for the dump, a busy place, unload it...
Complicated Aesthetic Endeavors
“Not a pretty picture!” the stranger shouted, observing–from the far side of the parking lot–what the photographer was up to, which, to be just, was not much, much like everything else.
Joyce Kilmer Turns in His Grave
Scrawled on the bathroom wall down at Pandora’s Tavern: Nature Poem Rooms full of poets all giving themselves permission to colonize blankness of paper reclaimed— whole forests saved!—and none without a prize they all...
Good to the Last Drop
Stopped by Pandora’s Tavern on the way home from the dump this afternoon. New sign over the bar reads: “It’s Always Mourning Somewhere!” Ordered a cup of instant Maxwell House from the bartender. “Sweetened...