an old writer and his words

  • FLIGHT

    As a young child, I always imaginedmyself a bird, poised to take wingthe next time my parents told meI couldn’t do what I wanted,to swoop around, out of their grasp,until it was time for lunch or dinner. Years later my dream was to bea pilot, Air Force not Navy, I mightget seasick and that isn’t…

    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