I'm a morning coffee drinker, but I feel my wife's tea pains when we are away from home. Too many places put hot water in carafes that once had coffee in it. Once a coffee container, always a coffee container. Or places don't have tea at all. Here, there is a free coffee station, but no tea. When I asked for hot water and tea bag, the staff member told me that tea costs extra. I was so dumbfounded that he went and got a free cup of hot water and a tea bag. So, there's that. #smallstories
"How you think of Percy Jackson books is how she thinks of these Thomas Jefferson's books."
The mom, or perhaps chaperone, is sternly making a point to an adolescent girl who is on the verge of rolling her eyes. We are inside a replica of Thomas Jefferson's library, in the Library of Congress. I don't know what the girl either said or did to the tour guide. All I imagine is that she doesn't see the need to look at these old books stored behind glass from some dead old white guy. #smallstories
We're approaching the escalator that leads down into the subway. My ears pick up what seems to be a horn playing. A busker, perhaps? A young busker, I think, because the notes are full of off-rhythms and periodic squeaks. A young saxophonist, playing for change? I can't discern a song. As we get closer, I realize my ears have deceived me. Not a musician, but the escalator itself, the belts of the tracks singing the blues to those whose weight it carries. It's a mournful song. #smallstories
“We think about this and we understand that he has been cast further than us, that he has been struggling and sinking in the desert sands for years alone and it is because of us. We enfold him and defend him and love him like brothers.”
-- from Eat the Apple by Matt Young, page 186
De-icing the wing of an airplane must be pretty common practice. This was the first time we watched it happen. You can find viewing entertainment just about anywhere, I guess. First, the hose extended from the vehicle with an extendable neck, like a wire giraffe. A layer of white foam shot out its mouth, coating the wing. It turned green after a few minutes. St Paddy's Day, I joked? Then, a layer of blue from the nozzle blast. Is that enough to stop the ice, we wondered? It was. #smallstories
They'll be protesting today,
walking out of schools
walking out of buildings
raising a ruckus,
in order to be heard.
In order to finally
Who will hear them,
other than those of us
who hear them
every day, who
hold them when
they're scared, who
comforts them in
Who will listen to them
when the lobbyists
hand out cotton
for the ears of those
with the power to
The car was dead in the driveway. My first impulse was to blame the Kid. Did you leave dome lights on? The headlights? No, he said. No. I pulled out this jumper box that we recently bought. Hooked it up to the battery. Turned the key. Nothing. Not even a turn. Dang. I texted our neighbor, who owns a garage, who came by, jumped the car and drove it to his place. New battery needed. Our friend parked it back, hours later, fixed. It's handy to have a neighbor who's also a mechanic. #smallstories
Image from page 20 of "Bird dogs in sport and conservation" (1948)
"Listen to your sister."
"She's not my sister."
The older girl looks closely at the two little girls. One is spinning a hula hoop. The other is trying to grab it.
"Then listen to your friend. If she is your friend ..."
The older girl can't figure out if the two little girls like each other.
"Our teacher," says the little girl, "gets us confused all the time. It's annoying."
I'm walking by, seeing this exchange. They do look like sisters. The older girl and I smile, understanding. #smallstories
“Back in the days when I had no ways to communicate at all -- no writing, pointing on my alphabet grid or verbal expression -- I was extremely lonely. People who have never experienced this will go through life never knowing how soul-crushing the condition of wordlessness is.”
-- from Fall Down 7 Times Get Up 8 (A Young Man’s Voice from the Silence of Autism), by Naoki Higashida, page 54