One Pebble, Then An Avalanche

The day after was perfect day: palmettos rustling in the light breeze, ducks chattering on the ‘lake’, rippling patterns on the stucko wall. He would have gone down to feed them.  My brother stumbles into the kitchen, rumpled, stubbly, and rubbing his eyes. “Coffee?” “Uh-huh.” He grunts. I never see him like this. We sip…

Boats Gone By

My dad Peter Henkel  (1929-2001) was always a trickster: a rebellious kid, a young man with a reckless streak. A  real romantic, he fell in love with my mother the moment they met. They both loved the whole 'Roaring Twenties' era and so when I was about three bought a 1930 Chris Craft speedboat to restore.…