Christopher Orlet
A Midwesterner coming of age in the 1970s probably did not grasp that society was slowly unraveling, though I suppose the signs were there for anyone who cared to look. Our street was of the typical blue collar, working class…
Last week I happened to be attending a conference at a Midwestern medical school. Everywhere one looked there were smartly dressed female students. Many were of Asian descent, naturally, but not all. Every so often I came across a young…
The phrase “boys will be boys” has taken on ominous overtones of late. In reference to the underclass, the phrase conjures up images that can be quite terrifying. And only slightly less sinister is the expression “girls will be girls.”…
You know you have reached the summit of middle age when the once simplest tasks become insoluble problems. We were headed north for a romantic weekend getaway in a quaint river town overlooking the Mississippi River. The bed and breakfast…
Some months ago the novelist Philip Roth told an interviewer that he had stopped reading fiction. Here was arguably America’s greatest living novelist confessing that he had lost interest in novels and short stories, and much preferred to read history…
Increasingly one gets the impression that he is living in a third-world country. Last week I went to have my vehicle inspected as directed by the all-powerful Missouri Department of Revenue. Here in St. Louis the state has mandated our…
Probably not what Dr. Martin Luther King meant when he spoke of being “free at last.” Last week, a judge in St. Louis released seven middle school students after the key witness failed to show up for a hearing. The…
“I could never live out there,” says my neo-bohemian friend, his words conveying a profound sense of horror. “It’s too white.” “What have you got against white people?” I ask. My friend — to quote Fitzgerald — is also of…
Last week Venezuelan President for Life Hugo Chavez suggested the U.S. government gave him cancer. This is a nutty statement even for a guy who makes nutty statements for a living. Normal, sane people prefer to accuse large U.S. companies…
The homeless man stood unsteadily in the church vestibule reeking of cheap wine. In the chancel, the choir was singing a glorious rendition of “O Holy Night.” It was Christmas Eve and the pews were crowded with erstwhile parishioners home…
