Slackjaw's Forum

This is, for whatever reason, the one hundred and first forum I have written. I was thinking of what I would want to write here on the last day of the year and like one does, when counting down the minutes until the new year, I started counting down the stories to see what number I came up with. One hundred. In some ways I thought it would be more. I fool myself into thinking I update this site on a weekly basis so how could it only be one hundred? On the other hand, one hundred is a hundred more than I would have written if I didn’t have this page. I am not, like some people in this world, a person who otherwise keeps a journal and this page has been, if not a journal exactly, at least a point of reference for where I’ve been. I’ll be coming up on the third anniversary of this web site this April: From the humble beginning, as a free Yahoo Geocities site, up to the mighty web-publishing force that thetrailerpark.org is today. (if you think of “mighty” as being the ten...

We’re into the countdown. Into the final few days before the yuletide big bang explodes a certain blond haired boy I know into a whirling Christmas dervish. Into the last few days that though at first seemed miles away, now seem like tomorrow and all the deadline checks I’ve written to myself are cashing themselves in. It doesn’t help that the car is in the shop. It doesn’t help that the boys are sick. It doesn’t help that I’m broke. It doesn’t help that Sweetie’s mad at me. It doesn’t help that we have a lawsuit just around the corner. It doesn’t help that there’s no snow. It doesn’t help that I’m lacking Christmas spirit. And it really doesn’t help, I guess, to complain. Here on the eve of this great global holiday there is so much to be thankful for. In fact far more this year than any past year that comes to mind. In truth I am thankful for: My wife, who despite my great faults, really, truly loves me. For my oldest boy, whose kindness and generosity belies his si...

Well Sweetie the oldest boy and myself were on the radio this morning. Or at least the song I wrote, Christmas Heart and Soul was. The Mountain had been asking for home Christmas songs to play and so last week I sent one in. It was kind of a surreal morning…for the most part I press the snooze bar for the first half hour before I finally drag my ass outta bed. Sweetie hates it when I listen to the radio when she’s still in bed so she’s always wackin me to get me to push the snooze bar. I had already pushed it once and when the snooze was over the radio came on, there was my song! The funniest part was that Sweetie was all pissed off that I wasn’t pushing the button and I had to say “Hey! You’re one the RADIO!” The older boy who had crawled into bed with us sometime in the middle of the night sat up, Sweetie turned her radio on as well, and we sat there listening to the whole thing. At the end one of the DJ’s said “Well that’s how it’s done!” Which I took to mean he thoug...

THE PRAIRIE DOGS new CD Brand New Heart will be in next week! Right now I’ve got Mini working on updating the new Prairie Dog web site for us and I hope to have that up in the next day or two as well. We’ll be putting up some song files and other stuff and I really think it’s gonna look awesome. It’s been a crazy week and it looks like next week is gonna be even worse. Things are really starting to take off this holiday season and though it may look like I’ve got my hands on the reigns, that don’t mean I have any control over the sled. It just means I’m holding on for dear life! I wish I had time right now to reflect over this past year. There have been so many changes around the Park that it’s hard to keep track. But all that’s just gonna have to wait for another forum, cause right now I’m going as fast as I can. Have yourself a happy holiday season and keep checking back for the new changes.

She put her head right under my chin, near, but not on, my chest, as the few hairs there tickle her nose. It’s a perfect place, a place we both can fit comfortably. For the past few nights the rain and wind have picked up and when we’re lying still like that, you can hear the birch trees outside our window flutter and hiss. I can feel her breath on my skin and I’m guessing she can feel mine on her hair. I want to pull her to me as tight as I can. So tight that you can’t tell where my skin ends and hers begins. So tight that if I pulled any tighter it would hurt. Everything slows down in those moments right before drifting off. Her breathing, her kisses and the way she touches my arm; they all slow down until movement seems impossible. As if by moving, we would break. Out past the open windows the rain is forming puddles in the street and old leaves are turning into deep red mud. The wind makes one last push through the upper branches and we fall asleep.

For one year back in 1972 my family moved to Grand Forks, North Dakota. We had been living as bohemian ex-patriots in The Hague, with both my father and mother teaching at the American school there, but after three years of that, my father decided that he’d had enough of teaching for one life and after some searching decided upon coming home and getting his doctorate. He had heard great things about the U of ND through a friend of the family. Apparently they offered the exact program he was looking for and so after school was over for the year, we packed our things and headed straight into the middle of the Great Plains. Straight into the never ending prairies and the cold teeth of winter. My mother and sister and I arrived at night after taking the train from Chicago. I don’t remember how we found a house but we did. My brother, father and our dog Toby drove the U-haul and came a day or two later. That year we lived in a duplex where I don’t remember the neighbors, but r...