writing

Blaise Kielar gets a Pushcart Prize Nomination!

Every year, hundreds of small presses in the US and around the world nominate up to six published pieces for inclusion in the annual anthology, The Pushcart Prize: Best of the Small Presses. My essay “Violin Shop: Behind the Velvet Counter” was nominated by the North Carolina Literary Review https://nclr.ecu.edu/. To me, it is the […]

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Do It Yourself Miracle

Was it luck or skill? It was said that John, my stepson’s dad, could heal balky electronics just by laying on hands. When my 1963 MGB wouldn’t start, I rocked it back and forth to coax the starter to engage. But when our electric car charger started to shriek loud enough to be heard outside, […]

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Epigraph for My Upcoming Memoir

In silvis viva silui, Canora iam mortua cano. Alive in the forest I was silent, Now in death I sing melodies. Inscription found on ornamented stringed instruments, especially violins, starting in the 1500s. Can also apply to the trees whose pulp made the pages you now hold. Once it is published, I envision this at […]

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Journey

The A Train grinds to a stop and doors gasp open. On the platform the acrid brakes assault my nose. Holding my breath, I leap up the 59th Street stairs. Ah, sky. From Columbus Circle I can gaze at Central Park, place myself on a path free to meander and imagine I can smell the […]

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AH, THE IRISH! (1979-80)

Not being just a violin shop allowed Hillmusic to retail other interesting things, from jaw harps to LP’s. We had a record player beside my bow rehairing bench. I didn’t even have to stand up to change a record – I’d just rotate on my workbench stool. There were so many sounds and styles to […]

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SIDEWALKS ARE NEVER SILENT

The human memory, like a raven, is attracted to singularly bright objects, those that shine in the mind. Months later I remember tasty food, every dish a gumbo of spice and sauce, and cheap but strong cocktails, even outside of Happy Hour (starts at noon in some bars), and of course, the jazz. Three or […]

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OLD TIME

The new Hillmusic space was right in the heart of downtown Chapel Hill. Franklin Street marked the northern boundary of the University of North Carolina campus, and was packed with stores and places to eat, and where it crossed Columbia Street was the functional crossroads of town and gown. And our space was a half […]

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DANIEL BOONE COMPLEX, 1978

Worst campsite ever – tent pitched on gravel that laughed at our sleeping bag pads, open trash barrels stinking in the oppressive August heat, swarms of yellow jackets, and a picnic table without benches – too high for folding chairs. Who the hell wants to stand up to eat at a campground?! It was not […]

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ONE EAGLE

Scree . . . whoosh . . . just as I look out my window, a bald eagle swoops and dives, talons grasping a fish from our neighborhood lake. A rare enough event, but the chills came because I was on the phone with my late Dad’s income tax preparer, who is sad to hear […]

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THE HOLE WHERE THE RED WAS

Two women harangued me on my colorful attire – did I really stand out that much in my vest with some metallic gold threads, and my bolo tie with gold bling? It was not my intention to outshine my bandmates – I just like to wear colors and sparkly stuff. Seemed perfect for the last […]

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