an old writer and his words

  • FINALS

    It was approaching the end of another too long semester and the sign-up sheet for office hours was getting fuller with names I didn’t recognize, or did and not in a way that would please the student. It was always like this, the two weeks after it was too late to do anything, when the…

    Lou Faber

  • SMART ONES

    We marched for hours, going nowhere really, but nowhere was the point of the marching so we achieved the goal the Air Force set. We didn’t even think it odd that they made us shave our heads, so we’d all look like fools, there was a war on and we were in the military, so…

    Lou Faber

  • CRAFTY MOON

    The moon hid from me last night in a cloudless sky, and only a week from full, so we both knew it was there, peeking for a brief moment from behind the old oak in the neighbors yard. It wasn’t the first time the moon had done this, it will not be the last either,…

    Lou Faber

  • ON THE FLIGHTLINE

    We sit on our lanai, which the birds will tell you is the backyard of their preserve and watch the sun bid its blazing farewell to this day. The birds begin their scheduled return, ibis in groups, the self-declared top guns flying in hot and flat, only dropping their arrestor hook as the approach the…

    Lou Faber

  • RECALL

    It is always odd watching older men gather to talk about their lives, about how much they no longer remember of last year and a decade ago, about the infinite details they do recall of their time spent in the army, air force, navy, the smell of slop on a shingle, the stain on the…

    Lou Faber

  • HUP TWO

    In his dreams he is still marching across endless paved paths on an Air Force Base that might be Texas or might just be hell. In his recollection, in July there is virtually no difference between the two. He stirs each time his Drill Instructor bellows, which is every few minutes, likely seconds in this…

    Lou Faber

  • RESURRECTION

    In the picture he is young, wearing a uniform that fits him, has his name over the breast, but his hair is longer. The picture is a bit askew, there is a clock on the wall but the time does not matter. He knows it was the radio studio but others would not, the mic…

    Lou Faber