Author: Gregory Greenleaf

My Lab Echo and I have just set out for our daily walk down Cundy’s Harbor Road when a red car pulls up alongside me. The driver is a man in his late 60s, and is wearing two or three days of gray stubble around his face.

I am sopping up a little gas I spilled on the garage floor while filling up my chainsaw. The rag came from the family rag bag that my wife Allison manages.

Get a piece of paper and draw a horizontal line. Above the line, write the word “fortune.” Below the line, write the word “misfortune.” In his analysis of fables and myths from around the world, the late novelist Kurt Vonnegut discovered a pattern.

Pause the film there, please. Take a look at this bicycle in the air, front tire at 6 o’clock and back tire at 11 o’clock.

It is summer and you’ve been working in your garden. You come inside after weeding and swatting mosquitoes. Your hands are covered in grime, sweat and bug guts. You go to a bathroom sink to wash your hands.