Dom Vito, Repair Man

My friend was telling me about his repair man,  Don Vito. “We were sitting in my RV as he was tinkering with the broken generator,” he said.  “I wanted to get to know this gregarious Italian; what was behind his infectious personality.”  Dom had lived on the coast in a beautiful home in San Clemente,…

Mr Greengrass

During my growing up years, I called him Mr. Greengrass; wrinkles, wispy white hair, deep crow’s claws around penetrating eyes. He was the old man who came by often, and smelled like mothballs. Ironically, Leighton Greengrass lived up to his name, not a single blade of grass out of place in his manicured yard. One…

Living in the After

It was late afternoon, and I sat on a park bench, watching the players on the court. I didn’t feel like crashing their party, didn’t feel like risking the fool among a throng of urban teens. I wanted to sit tight, and let the urging of the Holy Spirit pass, and then walk home and…