I leaned against the cruiser while pushing the door tightly against the roofline. I subconsciously tried to crush the rubber weatherstripping tight to the frame. I felt it might mitigate any of our conversations from being heard inside the passenger compartment of the Chevy. The occupant had already been told—by me— her aunt had passed…
Author: Tim Cotton
Failures Not Oft Forgotten (Part One)
Several things have brought this story to light. I wasn’t going to write it. I have many reasons, some rather personal, but I decided to leave this out of my previous books because I was still dealing with some angst over it. None of that matters; it’s an issue with which I have to deal….
Something I Wrote in 2020
A few weeks of not writing much of anything are good for the soul. Storage of ideas and memories is fuel for a writer of simple things. I am a writer of simple things. Small details, minor incidents, mistakes, and bumps in the road are what keep the writer in me fed. Maybe you come…
Morning Cacophony.
Regularly scheduled morning romps recently were reorganized to include an exit out the back door, across the creaking deck that needs staining, and down the stairs to the very same backyard where we’d end up if we went out the front door. In essence, it’s Ellie’s urinary Ushuaia. I tend to stay on the deck…
The Sun Is Rising, And It’s Going To Be A Good Day
I don’t know when I started using the rise and shine greeting. I emit the slogan more for myself than the dog. The part she likes is the ear rub and the head scratch that accompanies my close talking and, possibly, a kiss on the deep crevasse that runs down the center of her boxer-like…
Postage Paid
I didn’t take a photo, but I swear that I did it. The postal worker advised me that I couldn’t get a tracking number on the envelope. He smoothly explained that when you use a postage pre-paid envelope, you must send it on its way as is; with no attachments. I said, “Well, I want…
Midweek Confession
I called my friend on Wednesday. We’ve known each other since 1980 when I went to work with him at a Wendy’s Restaurant up on the Hogan Road in Bangor, Maine. We were attending different high schools, and both needed part-time jobs, but we became fast friends. Russ is a thoughtful guy, much better at…
Road Trips, Pricey Coleslaw,and Lunch at Gramp’s Old Cabins(Pt.2)
This is the second installment of a two-part story. The first installment is nearby in the bank of Newslog entries. Thanks for reading- TC There were no visible signs indicating that I wasn’t free to stretch my legs on the river’s edge and visit the old cabins. I was confident that if confronted by…
Road Trips, Pricey Coleslaw, and Lunch at Gramp’s Old Cabins
The last time that I ate lunch on the porch of the lilliputian cabin was in August of 1969. Back then, the shiplap siding was bright white with red trim slathered on the boards of the eaves and all vertical edges. My grandfather had a retired fireman’s affinity for the color red. The fog that…
Keeping Our Boats Afloat.
The phone buzzed across the dusty surface of my nightstand last night. I’d generally avoid picking up a text at the witching hour, but my current agenda includes answering specific inquiries that I have made through the magic of electronic communication. I’ve been perusing Facebook Marketplace. I was trying to buy another old aluminum boat….