Our Town
Our Town – September 6, 2012
The Soupster and his friend Greta sat face-to-face on two hemlock stumps, chomping on jars of her latest batch of smoked sockeye and shooting the breeze. “So you didn’t vote in the primary,” Greta said accusingly. “I forgot,” sighed a sheepish Soupster. He chewed his fish silently. “It’s sometimes hard to remember that politics matters.”…
Read MoreOur Town – August 23, 2012
After enduring a somewhat sketch marriage in her twenties, 34-year-old Annie was basically glad she had the romantic gumption to follow her heart and a charismatic fisherman to Our Town. But it gnawed at her that she had left a job as a retail store manager and could not find the equivalent employment here. Especially…
Read MoreOur Town – August 9, 2012
“I love this `Coast Guard Alaska’ show,” Zach said, sprawling in the magnificence of his basement man-cave. The Soupster generally avoided subterranean structures of any kind, but he had to admit Zach’s man-digs were powerfully comfy. Heavily stuffed chairs and a still more heavily stuffed couch. A wet bar, a microwave and a big stocked…
Read MoreOur Town – July 26, 2012
One Sunday morning in Our Town Mollie Papillion woke up thinking, “I’m in the mood for pancakes.” She walked into her kitchen and began looking for the ingredients, but soon discovered that she was out of eggs. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was only 6:00 a.m., which seemed a little too…
Read MoreOur Town – July 12, 2012
Carrie told the Soupster he talked too much and her criticism stung. The Soupster knew he could go on and on – maybe a tiny, little bit? — but he didn’t know his friend had been suffering. And for “quite a while,” no less. “I bet you can’t keep your conversation to a minimum even for one…
Read MoreOur Town – June 28, 2012
Originally Published February 14, 2008
Read MoreOur Town – June 14, 2012
“Dear Great Uncle Arthur,” wrote the Soupster. “I hope this letter finds you in the best of health.” The Soupster stopped writing. Great Uncle Arthur was always complaining about his aches and pains. He might take the bland greeting as minimizing his suffering or, worse yet, sarcasm. The Soupster scratched out the previous line and…
Read MoreOur Town – May 31, 2012
A seagull plunked a white gift on the dock railing near where the Soupster rested his arm – a near miss. “If humans could take a cue from the seabirds and be that casual about our process of elimination…” the Soupster thought out loud. “Then there would be no “American Idol” or “Survivor,” said Sarah,…
Read MoreOur Town – May 17, 2012
The Soupster’s head throbbed as he tried to remember what it was he had just been thinking about. He was walking down Lincoln Street, happy with himself and his thought, when it took flight. “I hate when that happens,” the Soupster said, quoting television. Crossing the street ahead of the Soupster, coming at him from…
Read MoreOur Town – May 3, 2012
“Coffee delivery,” the Soupster announced, as he approached the four men sitting and standing outside Giant Gene’s auto shop. Indeed, he carried a cardboard holder with four paper cups. “You’re a good man,” Giant Gene told the Soupster, taking the holder and distributing the cups. Charlie, also called Red, raised his in salute. Billy, called…
Read MoreOur Town – April 19, 2012
“Morning, Sunshine!” I greet the Soupster as he slides into the passenger seat. “Uh-huh,” he replies groggily. Accepting my offer of liquid incentive, he adds, “Quad shot creamy, dreamy choco-caffeine delight, my favorite. Thanks.” The Soupster adjusts his sunglasses to the morning sun. At 8am on this Saturday it’s the offer of my gardening genius and…
Read MoreOur Town – April 5, 2012
“Soupster, are you crying?” asked Laine as she encountered him on a bench near the harbor. “Oh, just deep thoughts,” the Soupster admitted, wiping his cheek with the side of his hand. “I was just thinking about Clarence… and novels.” “OK,” Laine said, sitting down. “I’ve got a minute. Tell me what’s on the Soupster’s…
Read MoreOur Town – March 22, 2012
Dear Soupster, My wife says I bring home too many chums. But I never give her anything but coho, king and abalone. I have informed all of the 15 or 20 of my closest friends who I constantly invite over for dinner to do the same. They always comply. Yet my wife still complains. Signed,…
Read MoreOur Town – March 8, 2012
Originally Published March 6, 2003 The grocery store was packed. The Soupster had to walk sideways down the Canned Tomatoes aisle to pass the shopping carts parked on the left side and then the right. Unusual for Our Town, a long line of shoppers waited impatiently at the checkout stand. When the Soupster finally got to…
Read MoreOur Town – February 23, 2012
At the hardware store at closing time to buy a paintbrush, the Soupster said the same thing he always said when he ran into the local vampire, “Hey, Ed, drinking that fish blood still working for you?” “Fine,” said Edward, who was not hearing the question for the first time. “Hey Soupster,” he countered, “you…
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