The Mists of Oregon

Cape Lookout
My father and I stayed close to where the ocean had wet the sand enough to make for easy walking. The ground was soft, but solid. Low tide pulled the sand out to sea as we made our way down the beach at Cape Lookout.

At one point he turned to me, “you want to keep walking?”

I’d stopped next to a small depression filled with imperfectly arranged stones, half a shattered sand dollar, and a small puddle of water too fearful to run out with the tide.

“Yes,” I replied, looking up from the stones at my feet. “I want to see what’s down there.”

I pointed south. Mossy crags curved into the sea at the other end of the beach. Something glittered on the walls there and I wanted to see it.

Read the rest (and see all the pictures) on Medium.

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Human Parts: Oh, the Things I Learned from Daddy-O

A Birthday Present for My Father

I told my father I wanted to be a writer when I was fourteen. “Write what you know,” he replied. I didn’t understand what he meant. I thought he was mocking me.

What would you write about? You know nothing. You’ve lived a boring life.

At twenty-six, I am finally beginning to understand what he meant. I am finding my voice in the thousand little memories in which it hides and drawing from the countless lessons unknowingly learned from my father over the years.

***

Read the rest on Medium, it lives in Human Parts, an amazing collection of stories about being human curated by Stephanie Georgopulos.

Human Parts: Growing Up Putz

Tending the Low-Hanging Fruit of a Funny Last Name

When I was in seventh grade, Jon looked up my last name in the dictionary.

He spent an afternoon shouting Katie Dick! Katie Dick! Katie Dick! down the hallway.

All I did was laugh and put the dictionary back on the shelf.

***

Read the rest on Medium, it lives in Human Parts, an amazing collection of stories about being human curated by Stephanie Georgopulos. She uses an appropriate number of exclamation points in her emails to me.