I arrived at the Fred Wood Funeral Home right before eleven in the morning. Eric Clapton’s “Tears of Heaven” was playing over the speakers. I could overhear an older woman in the row in front of me whisper, “I’m sick of hearing this song at memorial services,” to the gentleman sitting to her left. I couldn’t disagree with her. Out of the last ten funerals I attended, at least seven of them featured this song. For a brief...

When I woke up the next morning, Johanna was long gone. After continuous fucking during the late afternoon and early evening away, she needed to get home before her boyfriend got suspicious. Even though she gave me her phone number, I doubted that I would ever call her. While she was a charming young lady, and I enjoyed having sex with her, I didn’t want another jilted lover to blame me for the problems in their relations...

I left Michigan with Annie, my little sister, the day after I graduated high school in June 1987. After crossing the Michigan/Indiana border, I swore I’d never return. With the exception of layovers at Detroit Metro Airport, it was a promise I kept to myself, at least until Gary Mertz died. Once I saw that a bunch of my old classmates, including Kimberly Crane, were going to be attending the funeral, I decided to break my...