I rifled the glove compartment and finally, after some blind reaching, brought up something from beneath the seat and handed it over to my mother.

She scribbled a note. Magic marker on a paper napkin, a few bold strokes. I have no idea what it said. But I do know this. It was short and sweet, probably pungent. If it was a full sentence, I suspect it was an imperative. I don't suppose she felt the need to sign it.

"I'll be right back," she said.

—Sport

 

 

 

Essays

  Caped Crusaders
Capes are about power and magic, about freedom. They’re about doing good, with style.


     
  In April Anything Could Happen
Older, but no wiser, I choose to put a twelve-year old’s lunatic faith in possibility.


 
     
  My Bread and Butter
The best fiction—the fiction I love to read, fiction I aspire to write—explores the human landscape, the tumultuous terrain of the heart.

 

     
  State Fair
At the Minnesota State Fair, I learned to love the sweet serene and bony girth of the cows, which we studied, my grandfather and I, stall by stall and row by row, contemplatively and patiently, like art lovers in a gallery.