Crispy kosher turkey, Drumsticks, dressing, thighs, The sweet Pope’s nose, oh yeah!

My parents left me in the car while they voted for President Roosevelt at the grade school. I had my jack-o’-lantern for company. There were three older kids, school kids,…

Summer’s officially done. The dogs and silvers are running in Union River, way back in the alders. Passing the football lazily back and forth in the upper pasture, Evers and…

Ko’olau sunrise, Gold Palolo morning, Full moon fading wearily maka’i.

Called Cornet Beach for the variety store just across Farrington Highway, its tide pools sparkle clear in the near-cool morning on the school side, across the bay from Mauna Lahilahi….

Roaches. Dung beetles. Spiders. We sometimes use our names for fellow terrestrials to characterize each other. Some might say those are our truest names and selves. I might say so….

My golf game Is starting to come around, Finally. I took it up six years ago, When I turned seventy, Sort of to honor Whitey, My father. I’m hitting solid…

She’s late, a half-hour, Grins naughty as sin, Smells like old fish. Little Willy John’s “Fever” Hisses, fades, in and out On nighttime AM radio From Seattle. My Chevy’s front…

Jim Harrison was The man Hemingway Ached to be. December 11, 1937 – March 26, 2016