I have been an uncle for almost four years.

My sister and brother-in-law have twin girls and a son who’s younger than his sisters.

I think about the days they were born every now and then, because they were days to celebrate.

When those kids were born, I was just about euphoric.

I have probably told this story here before if you were to check the archives, but the day I became an uncle euphoria served me well.


We learn how to stand in a line in kindergarten or earlier.

I guess the reason is order or control.

Lines last throughout our lives.




Drive thrus.


Airport security.

I’ve been in plenty of lines.

This is a story about a time I got in the wrong one.


The crazy time happens just before dark.

Today, I’d been home from work for a little while, and I got another chance to do what’s become part of my routine since “coronavirus” and “quarantine” became parts of regular conversations.

I sit on the front porch in a rocking chair and read.

I cracked a new book open today, but I didn’t get through the prologue before it started.

It was the crazy time, when those crazy things come from who knows where and try to eat me alive.