And now, a few words from Chris Erskine
Our Man of the House, Chris Erskine, has moved to Saturdays along with the rest of the Home section. On Thursdays, we give you a teensy peek into his fevered, suburban brain:
Let me describe this little soccer team. They seem to be constructed of spare IKEA parts, the stuff left over after you assemble the new coffee table. Most of them still have puppy breath, which they exhale through their mouths and ears. Some of them breathe through their butts. Trust me, if you’ve ever been in a huddle with a bunch of 5-year-old soccer players, you know what I mean.
“Men, we have the potential to be a great, great team,” I say.
“We do?” asks one.
“Yes, we do,” I say.
They nod and smile, not sure what to make of me, their coach, their Moses. I am older than most of their houses. I smell of cheap Dominican cigars and apparently give myself my own haircuts. My clothes don’t fit so great. My face is always flushed. To them, I am not unlike the clowns who entertain at birthday parties. “Your dad is so funny,” one player tells my son.
“I know,” the little guys says. “Some people don’t like that.”
Can't wait to read the rest on Saturday? Then dip into the Erskine Archive.
-- Veronique de Turenne
