Author Archives: Wizard Woodsy

Seniors finished classes yesterday and practiced for graduation this morning. One of the final traditions is a senior walkthrough, a chance for the students and teachers to line the hall and cheer for the graduating seniors. Boy, do they deserve our cheers. Our cheers, our congratulations, our respect. To survive high school in normal timesContinue reading “For My Students”

I don’t know much right now, but I know I’m going to do everything in my power to get my paddle board on a lake Saturday. I need lake time, a long-overdue mental health prescription. Paddling around Spring Lake is therapeutic. I visited numerous times in late winter, wishing for spring, for green leaves, forContinue reading “On Paddling (around a lake)”

I can’t remember what it’s like to feel normal. There are moments, narrow slips of time, that I’m distracted by something — work, pool time, a TV show, a book, my camera — but those distractions are short lived. Reality always intrudes, and each intrusion brings fresh shock. With each realization, each return to theContinue reading “On Feeling Normal”

For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved afternoon and evening thunderstorms. During high school, I spent storms on the porch swing, watching, listening, waiting. Feeling. Looking south and west over the elevator and beyond the edge of town, I could see a storm approaching — dark sky, curtained by rain — long beforeContinue reading “On Wind Chimes in Storms”

Usually, writing happens organically. A thought or story or phrase I can’t get out of my mind evolves into paragraphs that make sense or a photo begs me to tell a story. Words take on a life of their own. Not this week. This week, I’ve started and deleted several posts. Oh, I’ve written. I’veContinue reading “On Wishes”

If you look into my eyes, can you tell I wept for hours? That I sobbed, hyperventilated, cried out? Or do I look okay now? If you hear my voice, can you tell three words, sometimes joined, sometimes separate, screamed in my mind most of the afternoon and evening? “WHY?” “Suicide.” “Cooper.” Or do IContinue reading “On Stormy Hours”

I imagined myself a scout. More specifically and most frequently, an Indian scout (in the vernacular of my youth). I spent countless hours on my faithful steed (lime green banana seat bike), riding to the outer limits of my territory—Vern and Beulah’s corner, Cornelius’s stop sign, and Rodney and Donna’s house—looking for danger. My steedContinue reading “On Pretending”

I spent some time in the timber today, and at one point was in an area choked with honeysuckle and littered with downed trees. What should have been a clear and easy walk required climbing and crawling. The logical, expected way was blocked with dead trees in various stages of decay. Some trees snapped inContinue reading “On Fallen Trees”

When I was 12-ish, Grandma and Grandpa Clark gave me this pocket knife for Christmas. I don’t care too much about presents — less all the time –but I’ve treasured this knife. It wasn’t a typical granddaughter gift, but it was something they knew I’d love; I’d spent countless hours sitting on the edge ofContinue reading “On Whittling”

Another snapshot into this life of mine. This life After. This life that is such a mess of tragedy and promise, fear and faith. This life that so desperately craves comfort. Today’s “snapshot” is more of a long exposure; it covers a 24-hour span. Friday Night I don’t think I’m a hermit; I do leaveContinue reading “A Day in the Life”