The Color of Normal

As a white guy, my whole life I have heard comments about white “chicken legs” when shorts make their first appearance of the summer. Comments like “Jesus man, don’t those legs ever see the sun?”

Well no, they don’t, actually. All winter long I wear long trousers to stay warm. And in the summer, I’m careful not to intentionally expose my legs to the sun too much because they burn easily. So no, I don’t expose my skin to the sun just to darken my coloration. Because melanoma is no laughing matter. Continue reading “The Color of Normal”

A Five Dollar Blessing

He is a little man, dressed all in black, shivering on a wet and cold street corner. It is 37 degrees and raining hard. Puddles of blackened half-melted snow mark the vestigial remains of winter. His sparse wiry facial hair and vaguely Asiatic features mark him as an American Indian. Native American. Indigenous. First Nations, as the Canadians about sixty miles to the north say. He stands beside a busy intersection, clutching a hand-written cardboard sign with letters scrawled in black Sharpie announcing his plight: “Homeless, God Bless.”  Continue reading “A Five Dollar Blessing”