Brian Doyle is the editor of Portland magazine.

Brian Doyle is the editor of Portland Magazine.

When I was a boy I had a friend named Dennis McCann Who was totally and utterly and maniacally in love with Surfing. He talked about nothing else and he said he did Nothing else on the weekends and he had ten surfboards Of various sizes in his garage, mos

He was, you know. Dried out and salted down By men who had carried his stuff all over their Country, for reasons they thought inordinately Silly, chasing after the birthplace of a big river. But when David died, they determined to carry Him all the way across

Probably an olive or acacia, as far as scholars can determine. Of course there are scholars who have poked into the matter. The Roman Empire sensibly used the most accessible wood. Me personally I would bet on the acacia which grows bigger And broader and qui

As usual one story will have to serve for one million stories. That is the way of stories. You might think that a lone story Cannot possibly do that, and you would be right and wrong. So here is Ena Zizi. She is seventy years old. The house fell Down on her w

Elk calf, first five minutes on four legs, the shimmy and wobble of her. The undeniable inarguable adamant lurid smell of a smashed pumpkin. Two basketball players helping up a fallen teammate, the braided grips. The infant Vaux’s swift that rocketed out of t

I am soaking in Revelation, in the King James, just before dawn, The dog snoring in his chair, everyone in the house sick and abed. Perhaps this is a dangerous idea, reading Revelation before sunrise. Perhaps I should absorb Revelation with a seat belt and a

Quid hoc ad aeternitatem, as old Saint Bernard of Clairvaux Used to mumble when faced with the usual parade of travail, What does it matter in the light of eternity? And yet, and yet, With total respect for eternity, don’t you love your problems, The smallnes

You know how sometimes there's a moment when everyone In the moment is startled by what happened without warning? This morning I remember an evening when this happened, at The Lutheran minister's enormous dark echoing old mansion Just across the street from t

The day I was granted the Sacrament of Confirmation and was admitted with full rights and privileges to the Church Eternal got off to a slow start, because the bishop was late. There had been a rain delay at the Mets game, but His Excellency couldn’t just lea