If you were lucky enough to know Michael Tyrone Ingram, your life was better for it. Michael was a wondrous contradiction. He wasn’t a socialite, but every relationship he forged meant something, to him and the object of his love. If you liked Mikey, you were going to like people who liked Mikey. He wasn’t …
my only sister, so teddy doesn’t care for fetching anything that’s not in water. i mean, it doesn’t get his fur standing at all. if he catches the ball, sometimes, when esme and i are playing, he’ll trot inside with it. seriously, esme has to go inside and take it like a bottle from …
I’ve never imagined myself not being a newspaperman. It’s strange, the drift, since I left daily journalism. But there’s been this odd calmness to everything. Maybe it has something to do with dad’s death. I dunno, but to have the job come end didn’t fall me like it has others who caught the blade. They’re …
“Are you Billy’s son?” It was always the first question. I had joined the Detroit News, nemesis of my dad’s paper, the Free Press, just down Lafayette Boulevard. Whenever I introduced myself, that was the response. I learned to answer diplomatically. “That depends,” I’d say. “What did he do to you?” There was no middle …
