Phil Gulley: The Terrible Gifts I’ve Given
"Charley has only one set of Case kitchen knives, so I might have to buy them before the 23rd to make sure no one else snatches them up. Otherwise, my wife will be getting a garden hose."
Sprain Wreck: Deborah Paul on Empathy
The following days were hell. I fell flat-out in our foyer attempting to answer the door, at which point my elbows were bruised as well.
Furry Tale
Last summer, when family troubles landed me down in the dumps, I decided I should have a little joy in my life. I got an urge, not unlike the longing a woman gets when it’s time for another child: that stirring deep inside that is at first un-recognizable but slowly gels into actual thought, and, finally, action. I wanted—no, needed—another cat to take the place of my beloved Scooter, who died, cancer-ridden, deaf, and blind, at the age of 21.
Editor’s Note, June 2016: The Closing of Holy Cross
The bell tolls for the Church of the Holy Cross, a near-eastside landmark closing its doors that was beloved by members and neighbors alike.
Last Call: Thoughts on Losing a Friend
Mary was critically ill, and although she had implored her family not to worry me, they decided I needed to know. All I wanted was to climb in bed beside her, lay my head on her shoulder, and cry, but I didn’t.
Injured Reserve
Dear Joseph Addai, Dallas Clark, Austin Collie, Mike Hart, and Kelvin Hayden:
Phil Gulley: Happy To Report
I enjoy my annual review so much, I’m thinking of giving one to everyone in my family.
Meet Me In The Middle
Even in a small town like Danville, there’s room for civility between the two Americas.
It Takes A Villain
Just when I think things can’t get any worse in our country, I go to the movie theater and watch the previews of the upcoming shows. They are, without fail, movies about futuristic police forces fighting villains in an American city laid waste by a nuclear bomb. It’s hard to tell the good guys from the bad guys because they both wear black and carry guns. When I was growing up, the bad guys had the courtesy to dress in black so we could tell at a glance that they were evil. Then the good guys changed the rules and started dressing like bad guys. Say what you will about bad guys, at least they don’t flout the rules of apparel.
Selling Out: An Open Letter to Rob Walton
Until recently, I was unacquainted with Walmart on a personal level, unless you count my son having been fired from his high-school job stocking the candy aisle for declining to work on the night of the first Passover seder.







