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Everybody has a novel inside themselves. Problem is most people are shitty writers.

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The image is horrifying so we should never forget

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This is the picture. It's the one I see in my mind when I really don’t want to, the one that will always be there and never go away. It’s the car the driver drove, while talking on her cell phone, that hit my son, who was pedaling his bicycle home from work, that amputated his leg and killed him. His name is Devin. I’m not really sure how long he lived after he was hit, as the driver kept driving with him on the car for 800 feet and didn’t stop for three-quarters of a mile, and didn’t call 911 until … when?  According to her police statement, she was on the phone. Her phone records show there were three calls to or from her boyfriend at 12:34 a.m., 12:35 a.m. and 12:45 a.m. She told police the crash happened shortly after the first phone call. She said she heard someone say, “Hello,” then she closed her eyes for a long blink and heard a bang. If the crash happened shortly after the first phone call, that means it happened after 12:34 a.m. but before 12:35 a....
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Having a drink with Devin

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It may have been the most dangerous thing I ever did in a long time -- or at least a little stupid -- but can't help but think Devin put me up to it. Since I'm still alive to write the tale, guess it doesn't matter, danger or stupidity aside. And I may have made a new friend in the process, all the while just stopping to say "Hello" to my son at St. James Cemetery. It's been 22 months since Devin was hit and killed by a driver on a cell phone. I talk to him often in my car, but really felt the urge to visit his grave today. Sometimes I just get a sense to do it. Great Cemetery People -- whoever they are -- left us a nasty note a month or so ago, and said we couldn't have any toys by the grave, so we moved the white angel that decorated the back. The party pooper patrol in charge of such edicts took the other knick-knacks Devin's friends had left as tokens of their visit. Couldn't help but think the grave looked way too lonely and naked. ...
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Where tooth drillin' and deer killin' go hand in hand

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"So, ya' wanna go deer huntin' after I fill that cavity?" "So, ya' like to deer hunt? Would you like to go deer hunting sometime?" I've had plenty of dentists tell me to spit (get your minds out of the gutter!), and plenty of dentists yell for not flossing enough, but never been asked to go kill a deer ... until I moved to Wisconsin. Eleven years later, I still remember that's the way Dr. Pete Janovic introduced himself to me. It was even funnier back then because I thought everybody in Wisconsin -- and especially Doctor Pete -- had an accent somewhere between the Swedish Chef and a bad Sarah Palin impersonation. I didn't know who Sarah Palin was 11 years ago, mind you, but once I heard her say, "You betcha," I said to myself, "Oh! So that's how Petey and everybody else sounds!" I'm also aware after more than a decade in Wisconsin, I sometimes sound like that myself, ya know! You betcha. Pete became our...
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