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Showing posts sorted by date for query oskar greenblatt. Sort by relevance Show all posts
We Are At War
by Oskar Greenblatt
I open a window to get some fresh air, and she turns up the thermostat. I tell her to wear a sweater, and she says, “That won’t warm the air I have to breathe.” When she clamps an icy hand to the back of my neck, I jump and shudder, and she laughs. I decide to make her an appointment with an endocrinologist. Meanwhile, I sit on the porch, drinking lemonade.
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Credit: This piece originally published at Paragraph Planet.
━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━
Oskar Greenblatt is a retired software developer.
I open a window to get some fresh air, and she turns up the thermostat. I tell her to wear a sweater, and she says, “That won’t warm the air I have to breathe.” When she clamps an icy hand to the back of my neck, I jump and shudder, and she laughs. I decide to make her an appointment with an endocrinologist. Meanwhile, I sit on the porch, drinking lemonade.
Credit: This piece originally published at Paragraph Planet.
Oskar Greenblatt is a retired software developer.
Reading My Father's Correspondence
creative nonfiction
by Oskar Greenblatt
One of my late father’s eccentricities was that he didn’t keep copies of letters he had written.
A particularly sad example is the missing letter he wrote to the famous author who was the subject of his master’s thesis. The author replied in great detail, and it is frustrating not to have the original questions to which he was responding.
There are surviving letters from friends, colleagues, and relatives with references to something he wrote to them, all very mysterious because whatever it was will never be revealed. A few of Dad’s letters written to an old army buddy survive because the buddy wrote his replies on the back, and those were saved.
Uncharacteristically, he saved a carbon copy of a letter he had written to a shoe company regarding the purchase of three pairs of shoes, size 7EEE.
━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━
Credit: This piece originally appeared at Six Sentences.
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Oskar Greenblatt spends too much time organizing old documents.
by Oskar Greenblatt
One of my late father’s eccentricities was that he didn’t keep copies of letters he had written.
A particularly sad example is the missing letter he wrote to the famous author who was the subject of his master’s thesis. The author replied in great detail, and it is frustrating not to have the original questions to which he was responding.
There are surviving letters from friends, colleagues, and relatives with references to something he wrote to them, all very mysterious because whatever it was will never be revealed. A few of Dad’s letters written to an old army buddy survive because the buddy wrote his replies on the back, and those were saved.
Uncharacteristically, he saved a carbon copy of a letter he had written to a shoe company regarding the purchase of three pairs of shoes, size 7EEE.
Credit: This piece originally appeared at Six Sentences.
Oskar Greenblatt spends too much time organizing old documents.
Knighted
by Oskar Greenblatt
In my elementary school, half the boys in the fourth grade were called Larry. Officially, they may have been named Lawrence, Laurence, Larrimore, or even Larkin, but they all answered to Larry. The predictable incidents of mistaken identity brought the easily-amused class of nine-year-olds to hysterical laughter all too often. The teacher, Mr. Barnes, was not amused. He decreed that all Larrys would be called by their surnames. To me it sounded delightfully Arthurian: “Greetings, Sir Name.”
━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━
Oskar Greenblatt enjoys reminiscing.
In my elementary school, half the boys in the fourth grade were called Larry. Officially, they may have been named Lawrence, Laurence, Larrimore, or even Larkin, but they all answered to Larry. The predictable incidents of mistaken identity brought the easily-amused class of nine-year-olds to hysterical laughter all too often. The teacher, Mr. Barnes, was not amused. He decreed that all Larrys would be called by their surnames. To me it sounded delightfully Arthurian: “Greetings, Sir Name.”
Oskar Greenblatt enjoys reminiscing.
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