On Dentists and Monkeys: Fifty Years On

This is four or five years ago:  I drive my father to the dentist.  My father has been going to this same dentist for 50 years. The dentist used to clean my teeth. Once, when I was about… Read More

After The Snow

On Twitter, we can hear Mirriam Seddiq swearing for five hours because she is stopped in bumper-to-bumper traffic on the beltway.  It’s because of the snow.   “3 miles,” she writes.  “Haven’t come across a lot to leave the… Read More

“If Your Hand Doesn’t Fit, You Must Quit”

My wife and I went horseback riding shortly before Christmas. When I had trouble mounting the horse because my hamstrings were so tight, I knew that the time had come for me to pay more attention to my… Read More

On Snobbery, Bumper Stickers, and Political Signs

Our neighbors finally took down the inflatable plastic Santa Claus they strapped down onto their front lawn shortly after Thanksgiving.  I breathed a sigh of relief.  My wife laughed at me for being such a Grinch:  Why should… Read More

Knowledge Comes At Middle Age

My mother fell on the ice in front of her house and broke her shoulder. She lay in the snow for 15 minutes before the emergency response people arrived. My two sisters who live in the area can… Read More

“Newborn”: A Poem for the Christmas Holidays

No satin is so smooth, no silk stuff quite so fine. Bare, needful, perfect, in whose presence all things shine. © G. Stanley Koehler

Liberty & Justice v. Koehler Law

Liberty & Justice for Y’all beat A Public Defender 144-82 this weekend, and Koehler Law downed Brucklaw 162 to 135.  These two teams will square off next weekend in the championship game of the Criminal Law Blogger Fantasy… Read More

On Anonymous Readers and Mothers

On this Thanksgiving, I would like to express particular appreciation to an anonymous person in Falls Church, Virginia.  Google Analytics tells me you have been my most loyal reader over the past year.  Thanks for reading. I would… Read More

Neutral Tones

I stand by the bed.  The fingers of your hand are loose and warm, and though your eyes are closed your head is toward me.  Are you sleeping, in the country you have got to?  On pathways of… Read More

“Everything Believable Between”

I wake up in the same bed I slept in as a boy, in a house Sylvia Plath once likened to a walnut.  If I went back in time to the days I shared the room with my… Read More