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Remembering My Dad

By Jim Anderson

My father was a Flint guy, Great Depression edition — blue-collar even when he was in management, hands-on, patriotic, optimistic, and altogether typical of his generation. As a young man, he played baseball, drank beer, smoked whatever cigarettes he could afford, and helped save the world for democracy. …

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Tony’s baby

Parenthood hit Tony Lawson like a summer storm. Yes, very much like that. A sudden, unexpected stroke of fury, a violent collision of opposing fronts. "Tony, you jerk, meet your son." The sky was cloudless above the executive lot, but the air crackled around the words. Tony fumbled his iPhone, …

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Grant’s Last Campaign

On a porch near Saratoga Springs, he gathers his forces from a rattan chair. The Great Captain, bundled in blankets against the summer air. Death is close, tasting like a damp cigar. “Grant’s Last Campaign,” the newspapers call it. He scratches away. Shiloh, The Wilderness, Cold Harbor. Has he said …

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Love and the Summer Night

He was a peasant, a man of the soil. Or so he claimed. She never believed him. He owned a farm house, but someone else owned the barn and fields. His hands were huge and strong, but sensitive. A potter's hands. "You're an artist," she said. "Admit it." They were in bed, katydids singing through the …

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The Day After Thanksgiving, 1977

On the day after Thanksgiving in 1977, I was alone in my apartment, writing. Nobody called it “Black Friday” then. It was just the day after Thanksgiving. I don’t know when it became the high holy day of American consumerism. …

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The Cross Roads

Looks good, don't he? Like he could sit up and tell a story. Ol' Terry knew a few! He wanted to write, you know. No, I never saw him with the arm, either. Yeah. In the war. The Hürtgen Forest, 1944.  Same day he crossed paths with Hemingway. Sure, the author! Funny story. Terry's hugging the ground …

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On the Burma Road

Mr. Jenkins disliked me on sight. That was surprising. I'm as pleasant as the next guy, and he couldn't see well. "I can smell a Jap a mile away," he said. "How I survived." I ignored the slur. "Ready for your walk, sir?" …

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About me

As you have probably figured out, my name is Jim and I am a writer. For many years, I was a college writing teacher, too -- among many other life roles. I have another, more popular blog called Life After Carbs. It's about losing weight on a reduced carbohydrate diet. And it's about me -- my favorite …

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El Morro

The Desire to Leave a Mark ... El Morro (the headland) stands in western New Mexico, and is also known as Inscription Rock. At the base of El Morro is a pool of water that for centuries attracted parched travelers to the spot, many of whom carved dates, names, and messages (including petroglyphs) into the …

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