Charles Goodrich
Charles Goodrich likes to write during foul weather. He lives in Corvallis, Oregon, where he tends the grounds of the oldest county courthouse in the state.
Remodeling The Hovel
I dig another nailhead out of the old siding with the cat’s-paw, slip a crowbar around it, and then draw the 16d sinker out. The squawk of the nail letting go jangles my nerves. If an unwelcome memory wanted to announce itself with a noise, the cry of a rusty nail would do the job.
August 2002Home Birth
Afterward, no one present recalled my pausing. It was brief, practically instantaneous, but it was one of those moments that open vertically, perpendicular to time, and encompass worlds.
June 1996Fathering The Night
Carrying the baby horizontally across my chest like a football usually calms him, and often puts him to sleep. But not tonight. He’s still crying, cycling through his whole repertoire: the screechy fear cry; the lower, throaty demand cry; the pitiable gasping interspersed with slobbery whimpers.
February 1995Has something we published moved you? Fired you up? Did we miss the mark? We’d love to hear about it.
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