A series of linked but independent stories set primarily in a small canal town on Lake Erie’s north shore, in the 1950s. My father lived these stories. I’ve embellished them.
We were inside the breakwater, still a ways from the canal entrance, when Leonard said he wanted to paddle. (Nominated for a Pushcart Prize)
The day that kid came from Toronto was my chance to be a hero.
In 1954, my dad’s best friend in Port Colborne was the guy who issued driver’s licences.
Last Jump Off the Lift Bridge (forthcoming)
Twelve of us felt the lurch, our knees buckled as a hundred and fifty foot long section of road rose on counterweights and pulleys, between steel towers on opposite sides of the canal.
After that boy died in 1955, no one was allowed to dive from the lift bridge, or even ride it.