A Very Rough Draft of Jim Harstad’s Memoir, ON HE RODE — Chapter Forty

“I don’t want to drink all your dad’s beer,” I tell Mardi. “Don’t worry about it. He stocked up for you.” “Appreciate it.” “Thought you would. My suggestion. Wanted to get you talking.” “Bet you’re sorry now.” “Au contraire. I’m on the edge of my seat. You’ve got the prayer to say before the first…

A very rough draft of Jim Harstad’s memoir, ON HE RODE — Chapter 39

ON HE RODE — Chapter Thirty-Nine The country school I attended in grades five through eight was a steep-roofed chalet built of river rock, heavy Douglas fir timbers, and cedar shake roofing taken from the ground on which it was built by the WPA in 1938. A gorgeous edifice immaculately maintained by angular post-retirement old-timers…

THE ALTERNATIVE  (250 words)

It’s true. I recommended the age-old old-age topic to the Buckaroo. Cocky me thought I could write a piece so full of longevity’s rewards as to inspire universal admiration and anticipation among the young. Starting with “Sure beats the alternative” and thinking to mine a rich vein of elder advantage, I falter at “the alternative”….

A very rough draft of Jim Harstad’s memoir, ON HE RODE — Chapter Thirty-Seven

Looking at my naked self in a full-length mirror reveals a diverse palette of possibilities, some anticipated, some not. It seems that by choosing sudden baldness over the more gradual male pattern alternative, I have opened up other coiffure possibilities. In fact, invited them. Nay, demanded them. Judging by the preliminary stubble, I will have…

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