Swimming

Do you remember how the City of Lakes was hissing steam when the stars climbed above the headlights just west of Hennepin Avenue?   And all that burned was reflected off the dark water, which lay mute like a black mirror.   I was at my fullest and I called your name as I walked into the lake … More Swimming

A Gentle Tirade. (An open letter to a disgruntled fan)

  I got an email this morning from a friend who’d just gotten off the phone with a “rabid Peter Himmelman fan.” During the conversation this fan mentioned how opposed he was to pledging on Kickstarter. http://www.peterhimmelman.com/kickstarter “It actually made him angry,” my friend said. My first thought was that -anger- seemed highly appropriate for someone … More A Gentle Tirade. (An open letter to a disgruntled fan)

WHAT WOUNDED VETERANS TAUGHT ME ABOUT TRUE HEROISM

Explaining where I was and how I felt this morning is complicated. I’ll begin with the basics. About four years ago I started making calls to a wounded warrior organization called the Wounded Warriors Family Adventures, which takes place in Breckenridge, Colorado every April. To my knowledge they’re one of the only veterans groups that work with … More WHAT WOUNDED VETERANS TAUGHT ME ABOUT TRUE HEROISM

Split Screen

November 21, 2010 – Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania   It’s late Sunday afternoon. A cold wind rises off the Allegheny and snakes around the tall buildings that ring the heart of the city. It blows so hard that the white prayer shawl, which serves as the wedding canopy, is in danger of blowing into the darkening sky. … More Split Screen

Watching My Brother Fly

The Target Trails were so named for the Target retail store, the first in the nation in fact, that sat in front of it. It was a wooded area that had been partially cleared to leave a dusty ten or so acres of dirt trails, perfect for young motocross aficionados. As soon as the snow melted in spring you could hear the high whine of the bikes on weekends and after school. There were all manner of jumps too, made of mounds of compressed dirt where a rider could get as high as nine or ten feet and land in a cloud of dust, smoke, and heroism. The Target Trails is where my brother Paul first fell in love, or to be precise, where at fifteen years old, he first found balance and and confidence. It’s also where I started to fall in love, as any good younger brother should, with him. … More Watching My Brother Fly