Category Archives: Quarropas

Quarropas

Arc of the Ball

Give or take a few years, a wave of contemporaries will join me sloshing into retirement. Some are younger and have ever-shorter distances to go. Others, having been there for a while, welcomed me at the finish line. A few leaned into the same tape as I did.

I think we share this mutual view: we don’t believe we’ve made it; we’re grateful to have “finished” the race. As I must’ve written elsewhere, now I know why my parents were so happy when work stopped scheduling their lives. Continue reading Arc of the Ball →

Agitprop/Propaganda, Baboon America, Observed, Quarropas, Struwwelpeter for Adults

Killing Snakes

Have I been strident about what occurred in Israel on October 7th, 2023? Hell yeah! My stridency equals, no, surpasses those on the wrong side of the issue.

Have I been dismissive about what torments Gazans are enduring over the months since? Indeed, I have.

Have I lost social media correspondents with my backing of Israel’s justifiably ruthless extermination of Hamas terrorists? Yes. Continue reading Killing Snakes →

Quarropas, Tales Out of School

Marathon 65

Sometimes through life this runner stumbled. While there was never any first place, crossing the line signifying 65 eventually became a major goal.

On some plane, I should grumble about not living in opulence and swaddled by elegance. People who do are part of my circle. Cosseted as such, some still haven’t found satisfaction. Deep or otherwise. Indeed, you can have plentitude and realize it means little.

In lieu of close family, I’m lucky to have a network of trustworthy and understanding contemporaries. Can’t buy those. Continue reading Marathon 65 →

Quarropas

Some Days Before

After the first commemoration of the September 11th attacks, I started observing them with less rigor.

I’d known World Trade Center victims. Hard not to have if one was a New Yorker. Several were work acquaintances. Two were social acquaintances. Stat Man and the Michigan Guy. The first I’d known over 10 years, the second maybe 14 months at most. Yet both have settled in the same firmament of memory. Continue reading Some Days Before →

Quarropas

Long. Languid. Like August.

August is the reason the French refer to September as “reentry.”

Like some Old World countries, the Belle Republique takes a month off after the bombast and celebrations of July. Americans should do that here in the New World but wouldn’t this just be the thing to interrupt our motorcycle rallies and guns shows? Besides, we must grudge the notion of vacation. Isn’t it a national trait? Instead of seeing time off as deserved, ah, earned, business and our hamsters on wheels go-getting natures insist we disdain time away from the millstone.

That’s just wrong. Continue reading Long. Languid. Like August. →