Bill Eville
I received an email recently that began: “I found the fierce bison underpants.”
Eville commentary


My daughter Pickle and I are walking the dog yet again, traveling the dirt road loop that stretches around our neighborhood.


I live on an Island filled with wooded trails but for years rarely visited them. My children do not like to ruminate while pondering the burnt orange leaves of fall.

I am rummaging around in my past in Tallahassee, Fla., here for a memorial service for Ned Stuckey-French, a former professor and friend who died too young.

Dwayne (The Rock) Johnson is my spirit animal. My daughter’s too. I suppose I should explain.


From my perch on a park bench I sit and watch my daughter age.

When I was a freshman in high school my hero got his ear chewed off in a bar fight in the parking lot of the Four Roses Bar.