by Eric Alan

February 13, 2021

I didn’t meet Mildred Kanipe until thirty-eight years after her death. I stumbled upon her homestead and grave by accident, along an obscure back road between London and Oakland.

 

Around here, it’s less than an hour’s drive from London to Oakland. These are not the great cities but their rural Oregon namesakes, mere pinpoints along a map few have cause to follow.

 

The day I met Mildred, I… READ MORE

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by Eric Alan

January 11, 2021

My mother and I agreed on our favorite tree. From the porches of our adjacent dwellings, the magnificent ancient fir towered above us. It was certainly older than me, perhaps even her. For almost a century, its limbs grew graceful and majestic. I was inspired by its resolute strength in standing still yet constantly growing. We watched it dance in every wind, concerned sometimes that it might fall in a gale. After all, its… READ MORE

 
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by Eric Alan

December 12, 2020

I’m fascinated by snippets of strangers’ conversations. On sidewalks and in stores, I listen by chance to the sounds of people’s lives. Since I lack context, most meaning I draw from their words is only imagined. Listening brings me more amusement than understanding.

 

Today I’m standing in a grocery store line, noticing how the social-distancing markers on the floor resemble actors’ stage marks. I think to… READ MORE

 
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