Five Minute Observations

Tag: Writing

  • The Gatorade Snafu

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    by

    Joe Class III
    in

    “Picture this: Twelve little eight and nine-year-old boys chasing after a soccer ball on well-manicured green grass. The coach is a middle-aged dude, a little pooch of a gut from drinking a few Coors Lite’s every night after working on an assembly line for General Motors. He decided to start coaching soccer because he loved…

  • From An 80-Year-Old Film

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    by

    Joe Class III
    in

    “Take my hand!” His lips mouthed the words. I couldn’t hear what the medic standing over me was saying, and nothing. I tried to get my body to work. It felt like a thousand needles in my fingertips, that same feeling you get when your extremities fall asleep. Or if you lay on your arm…

  • The Mississippi River Wave

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    by

    Joe Class III
    in

    A wave, the biggest one I’ve ever seen, coming straight towards me – from the Mississippi River? Over the top of the river wall, at least a third of the distance of the wall. So, what? Fifteen feet? At the low end? I don’t know. I was never all that great at judging distance, especially…

  • Suzie’s Coffee Shop

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    by

    Joe Class III
    in

    “Right, right, right.” “Are you just agreeing with me?” “Why on earth would I do that?” “Um, I don’t know? To mess with me?” “Why would I want to mess with you?” I’d never seen this woman dressed in capris with red heels, a crème colored blouse, pearls around her neck, and a full-length thinly…

  • Creativity

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    by

    Joe Class III
    in

    I’m not sure I’m smart enough to understand how it works or what it is. I’m no scientist. I’m not a researcher. But I do know what creative thinking looks like. I know how my brain works, creating a solution from nothing. But can I paint like Michaelangelo? Not even if I wanted to! Can…

  • Barefoot

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    by

    Joe Class III
    in

         “Put what you want into the universe. It will come back to you.” Bracelets on both wrists jangled as she touched my nose with her index finger. “Promise.” The smile and her words warmed me. She stood before me, wearing a flowing broom skirt, her sliver-streaked hair touching her shoulders with a sunflower tucked behind…

  • The Unusual Sounds

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    by

    Joe Class III
    in

    You expect certain sounds in Tualatin in the evening. Cars driving over the pavement, catching every uneven section with a thunk-thunk. The acceleration and deceleration of semi-trucks, some shifting up or down. It all depends on their speed. Whether or not they catch the beginning or end of a traffic light’s cycle will determine the…

  • Why do I have to say sorry?

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    by

    Joe Class III
    in

    “Tamara.” Ms. Geri never raised her voice. “You owe her an apology.” “Do not!” The four-year-old girl shouted at her pre-K teacher. “She started it. Not me. She owes me an a-po-golly. Why do I have to say sorry when I’m not?” Tamara pulled on the braid her mom put in her hair.   “I…

  • Teaching English

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    by

    Joe Class III
    in

          For a spring day, it wasn’t that cold. The SEMO sweatshirt I was wearing kept me comfortable enough. Not too hot. Not too cold. Not just right. Adequate is more like it, but I could’ve cared less. Coming from an English class where the students thought they knew more than the instructor was scary.…

  • Church Ladies of Birchhaven

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    by

    Joe Class III
    in

    “What happened to Jennifer and Sarah? I thought they were friends.” After eating a light lunch at Pete’s Diner, Francis and Martha sipped their espressos. Both women were friends from the local Southern Baptist church, lifelong followers of Jesus, and very stuck in what they would say is their views of Christianity, regardless of how…