Rick Brown is a landlord who much prefers to write. He earned a Master of Arts in History from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee and an MFA in Writing from Spalding University. His work has appeared in Hippocampus, On the Seawall, The Dillydoun Review, and elsewhere. Recently, he completed a book-length nonfiction manuscript, his first, titled, …
Finding: November 2006 After the third of those three phone calls punctuating the closing act of your life came, I returned to Hillview nursing home to find you lying at peace, at last: your hands joined at the solar plexus; the sheets and white bed blanket smoothed by the nursing staff over your straightened, supine …
Echoes It is week two of the Coronavirus shutdown, and I’ve driven away from home for a bit to get some solitary space. I’m parked in Oak Grove Cemetery in La Crosse, having just finished meditating in the seat of my car. It was a good session; and despite the pandemic—with the attendant fear, precautions, …
My Own Man It’s April in 2019, and I’m on my wooden meditation bench, eyes closed, sitting with the dread that has been so long and frequent a companion. Instinct tells me that holding my hands over my upper belly will help. I do that, and it does, but only minimally. I can feel the …
Coming Home You taught me the right way to wash walls: Start at the baseboards and work your way up in vertical sections. That way, if a trickle of soapy water runs down from the sponge it won’t cut through a space of dirty wall and leave a mark that’s almost impossible to wipe clean. …
Closing Act Once again, I was summoned, though this time not so much by you as for you. I’d driven to my apartment for a quick shower, and I was drying off when they called to say you’d died. After four days of vigil—catching bits of sleep on the couch in the Hillview nursing home …
Ringside Seat to a Downfall I can muse over the wherefores from now till the end of time and not come up with anything definitive, but I think I’m safe in claiming that one reason I’ve never carried out my suicidality to a fatal conclusion is because I am, by design, a survivor. Codependent people …
A Wish to Die There is a funny story in my present life that is only partially told, and the reason it’s partially told is because, until now, I have chosen not to reveal something crucial (and not at all funny) in the telling. It goes something like this: For the last couple of years, …
Boundaries Your life energy, whether convivial or dark in its expression, was a thing of magnitude. You could charm just about anyone—women, bartenders, bankers, even judges. Just as powerfully, you could badger, threaten, or pressure a person to your advantage, systematically breaking down their will to resist. Or you might do an end-run around someone …
Losing You One Way or Another These days, there are a pair of fully decked-out city softball parks abutting the open space south of Harry Spence Elementary, with bleachers, backstops, and home run fences. Tavern league teams use them all summer long, sometimes late into the evening, and the glow thrown up from the field …
Work Was Everything We often worked in silence, or at best exchanged a few words—a quietude arising out of mode rather than mood. You chewed your tongue while working. I probed the inner wall of my mouth and my gums with mine. I still do this. I catch myself doing it when I’m raking, washing …
Rick Brown Writes 