My father gave me this bullet. We lived on the top floor of our apartment building in West Beirut during the civil war. We were just a few blocks away from the sea. We had electricity only four hours a…

Tiny rivulets of water coursed down the walls. It had rained the day before. And some days before then as well. It was March in Beirut after all. The season of rain. Even though it was cool outside I could…

35 years ago nearly to the day. A city finding any excuse in differences to bury you. A car bomb, a bullet, a shell lobbed in a graceful arc from somewhere high in the mountains above the city, a bomb…

Notes from a father to his daughter a week after the attack on the WTC The rubble still smolders. The southern tip of Manhattan is shrouded in a brown haze. The air is still acrid with the smell of crushed…

This is the story of the Saw Mill Sasquatch. May he rest in peace. He was the last of his kind in these parts. As far as I can tell. Folks said his constant stomping around and scaring the chickens…