By Sean Dietrich
We had a major potato salad crisis at our Fourth-of-July barbecue. Someone forgot to designate a family member to be the official “bringer of potato salad.” So everyone took it upon themselves to bring potato salad. We had 2,927 varieties.
There are few things more American than a...
By Sean Dietrich
Nineteen kids came romping up the golden staircase, taking two steps at a time, sprinting toward the mother-of-pearl gates. It’s a wonder they didn’t knock Saint Peter over onto his Blessed Assurance.
The children all smelled like little-kid sweat and stinky feet. Their loud footsteps could be heard...
Reviewed by Jack Smith
Herman Wouk is one of the greatest historical novelists ever. It began with “The Caine Mutiny” and continued with “The Winds of War” and “War and Remembrance.” He saved his greatest work for last though: “The Hope and The Glory.” These novels chronicle one of the...
By Sean Dietrich
Nobody knows when it started. But it did. The first jar of pickles to appear on Aunt Bee’s grave in Siler City, North Carolina, showed up in 1989, the year she died. Legend states that the pickles were probably homemade. Although some claim they were store pickles.
Since...
By Sean Dietrich
The two girls knocked on my door. They wore Kelly green berets and green vests. I greeted them.
The two Girl Scouts went through their spiel. “We’re selling cookies, sir,” they began.
“Do you have any identification?” said I.
They exchanged looks. “Wait, what?”
“Well,” I said amiably, “how do I...
By Sean Dietrich
We were newlyweds, living in a grungy apartment.
Each morning, I would wake before her. I would pass my morning hours writing poetry on a yellow legal pad, sipping coffee.
Mostly, I’d write the kinds of god-awful things you’d expect newlyweds to write. I’m talking painfully corny stuff. I’d...
