Posted May 31, 2023in Joe's Neighborhood
So… what about the potato in Ireland? “You call them fries, we call them chips. What you call potato chips, we call crisps.” Emmett Maher, the restaurant manager at Beshoffs Seagrill in Howth, Ireland, is gregarious, engaging and charming. He’s the guy you want to be seated next to at
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Posted May 03, 2023in Joe's Neighborhood
The dark blue Irish Sea, streaked with light on the cresting waves, moves far below my winding cliff path. Listen, I get that people love the ocean. Of course, it’s not the Des Moines River or even the Raccoon, but the ocean does aggressively measure the smallness of your life.
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Posted April 05, 2023in Joe's Neighborhood
The students are cautiously lining up. They are dressed in pinks and blues and reds and purples and whites… and, look, there’s someone in a sparkling glitter affair good for both skiing and going to the club. Helmets are of all different shades, but it’s difficult to ignore the one
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Posted March 01, 2023in Joe's Neighborhood
“Could I help you, hon?” I don’t know. As an old man, the bright florescent world of Target presents several unique challenges — like where in this giant warehouse is the darn thing I’m looking for, particularly when I can’t exactly remember what that darn thing is that I am
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Posted February 01, 2023in Joe's Neighborhood
“Ah, the good old days.” Did I really just say that? Knocking on the door of nostalgia seems a bit of a trick bag. One person’s treasured memory is usually another person’s therapy-inducing nightmare. Take high school, for example. J.J. Watt, star defensive end for the Arizona Cardinals, says: “What I
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Posted January 04, 2023in Joe's Neighborhood
“It’s not opening,” my wife says with just a tinge of panic as the glass doors allowing us to leave the Paris train station stay firmly closed. That’s not the advertised deal. You are supposed to put your train ticket in the slot just like you did 10 miles earlier
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Posted November 30, 2022in Joe's Neighborhood
Rich Krumme died the other day. Most of you don’t know him. He farmed outside of Des Moines, near the small town of St. Marys, far from stoplights and Starbucks. His farm was just off a curving gravel road, on the other side of a pond, up on a small rise.
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Posted November 02, 2022in Joe's Neighborhood
“It’s somewhere in here,” says my friend as she turns her car into the small cemetery, “but I’m not sure where.” No one is around. The smell of aspen trees is tangy and sharp. The surrounding mountains deceptively invite an easy afternoon walk. The clouds roll in and roll out.
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Posted October 05, 2022in Joe's Neighborhood
Don’t get me wrong, there are serious problems in the world, and serious people are needed to keep us from killing ourselves and killing each other and to make sure we add baking powder to the cake batter. That tablespoon of baking powder is the difference between a cake that
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Posted August 31, 2022in Joe's Neighborhood
If you are lucky, you will wake up some morning and smell a doughy, cinnamon concoction drifting up the stairs. The smell will slip under your blankets, tickle your chest, and settle on your heart. It promises a lot. Love, certainly. Home, of course. Joy, without a doubt. My mom
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