Monday, June 29, 2009

When the marbles roll

The thing about losing your marbles is that once the earth starts quaking, once the ground starts heaving, once the marbles start rolling, the possibility of those marbles ever rolling back to you, present and accounted for, seems as impossible as losing all those marbles to begin with.

I lost my marbles on Friday, May 29, at about quarter past nine in the morning. My life, my future, everything, began rolling away in all directions.

How to describe it? Let me try. ...

Sunday, June 21, 2009

A visit to a favorite haunt

He swears his childhood home in Cheshire was haunted. A ghost once goosed his sister. Someday he’ll write a book about it all and call it “Little House on the Paranormal.”

So if it’s ghosts we are going to see — and I’m afraid we are — I guess I cannot think of anyone I rather see them with than my friend Mitch. We pull out of his place in Lenox on Friday at 6 p.m. and head north.

As we stop for spare batteries (“because ghosts can drain your batteries,” he explains), I’m beginning to think that hunting ghosts is about the dumbest thing one could do on a night like this — a chilly, windy, menacing October evening straight from Central Casting. The streetlights squint with orange, jack-o’-lantern eyes. The trees sway in unholy incantations.

Friday, June 5, 2009

Solstice supplications

If you’re not doing anything useful this morning and have a hankering to change your lot in life, you’re in luck. It’s that time of year again, the summer solstice, when we are genetically tugged, perhaps celestially shoved, to place a toll-free conference call to the cosmos.

At 8:26 a.m., the Earth’s axis is tilted most directly toward the sun, marking the beginning of summer for the northern hemisphere.