PeterHogenkampWrites

Like a lot of other things, The Summer of Chicken and Biscuits started innocently enough, on a whim. It was a Wednesday night in June, and, with the sun still high in a cloudless sky, it was a nice night for a drive. We hadn't been to the Wheel Inn in Benson, VT for a spell--where they cook up the best chicken and biscuits in Vermont on Wednesday nights--and so we hopped in the car and set off. Those of you who have taken an evening drive in these parts about this time of year will know that the peonies are blooming, the tree canopies are swaying with the light spring breeze, and the smell of lilacs perfumes the air. (Those of you w ho haven't should get around to it pretty darn quick.) What with all the sights and sounds and smells the ride sugared off nice and pleasant--even with my kids in the back seat. Yessiree, things were good when we pulled into the driveway of the Wheel Inn there on the four-corners of Benson--God's Country. There was even a spot in t

Let me the set the stage for you: it 's mid-July and my wife and I have just started a fabulous week at her aunt's villa on a hill high over Long Bay Beach, Tortola, British Virgin Islands, on e of th e nicest stretch es of white sand you are going to find in the world. So, what to do to get our vacation started off o n the right foot? Yu p, you guessed it: slip on the hiking sandals and trek up and over the ridge of volcanic rock that runs lengthwise over the entire island. T he obvious choice, right? Might I also mention that there is where the store is, and our condo wasn't stocked with coffee. (Please don't ask what happens when there is no coffee.) So, off I went, as my wife settled into the lounge chair by the pool. (She didn't want to come, can you believe it?)  Anyway, when I g ot home, drenched in sweat, hot as Cuba (my b uddy Bill says that) and reall y, really thirsty (who hikes in dew points as high as these? ) I decided to create this pict

It was thirty-four years ago when I walked into his classroom, and although I have only a scattered recollection of the works we studied, I will never forget Dr. Edward F Callahan, Professor of English at the College of the Holy Cross for over thirty years. He was a short, stocky man with a squarish head and thick-rimmed glasses, with a predilection for button-down shirts and cardigan sweaters. Nothing memorable there. But his lack of being memorable ended there, as soon as the door closed and he began consulting the list of students who had signed up for his class.  "Herr Hogenkampf?" He pronounced my name with a distinct Bavarian lilt. I nodded. He lowered his glasses and peered at me. "What kind of name is that?" "It's Dutch." He scratched his forehead. "Sounds German to me." I shrugged.  Ed left his glasses low on his nose and looked around the room, filled mostly with female students I didn't know,

 Cheers all. I haven't posted a chapter of #theintern in a while, but good things have been happening on that front and I wanted to catch you all up. First, check out the new cover, which an inspired reader created for me. The more I see it, the more I like it--hope you like it as well. Secondly, the editorial board at #Wattpad selected #theintern for the Featured titles list. Now, I realize that this honor and 5.95$ will get me a grande latte at Starbucks, but it was nice all the same. I posted the first few pages of Chapter 7 below, and here's the link to the whole thing. Thanks again for your support: A Spinal Needle in the Heart April died a cold and dreary death, and May bloomed warm and sunny, filling the streets of Manhattan with life. Maggie dodged a gaggle of German tourists (Who else who would be wearing Birkenstocks with powder blue socks?) and mounted the steps to the library. Howard was on time--he was always on time--sitting on the top step reading his IP

Happy New Year peeps; I haven't been around in a while but I swear there is a good reason. (One of the members in my mother's Canasta group came down with podagra and I was forced to sub in--cuz the Canasta must go on.) Besides that, I am--as the title of this post indicates--lost in the last revision of ABSOLUTION, the first book of the Jesuit Thriller series. Seeing as that this is the ultimate revision before Liz (ueberagent Liz Kracht) shops it sometime this winter, I am giving it my all, sparing nothing--including attention to personal hygiene.  So, to keep you folks from getting restless, I am re-posting a blog I wrote last year. If you already read it, why not give Canasta a try--my mother is still looking for a few good players. If you somehow missed it, clear your schedule for the next ten minutes and settle in to your armchair. Happy New Year! It was about ten years ago and we were in the middle of arctic front that lasted about eight days. From