David X. Sheehan
Bio
I write my memories, family, school, jobs, fatherhood, friendship, serious and silly. I read Vocal authors and am humbled by most. I'm 76, in Thomaston, Maine. I seek to spread my brand of sincere love for all who will receive.
Stories (72)
Filter by community
First Face I Ever Saw
Missing my mother today, and remembering what a wonderful impact she made on me and my siblings and so many people. Willa Anne (Tibbetts) Sheehan, born in Lawrence, Massachusetts, on July 30th 1926. Mama passed on this date 11/11/1980. Clearly, I loved her, I write about her a lot, and I feel her spirit is in some, if not all, of my work.
By David X. Sheehan4 years ago in Poets
Rest in Peace, Sweet Camelot
Eddie stood in the kitchen, hugging and kissing his best girl, Brenda. He said, “don’t forget, I’m meeting Dave at 4:30, when I’m through with the little “buggers”, a term of endearment he used for his 4th grade students at the A.F. Hunt elementary school, in Bridgewater. “Don’t call them that, Brenda said, “you’re teaching them science and math and we need them for the future.”
By David X. Sheehan4 years ago in Fiction
Rest in Peace, Sweet Camelot
Frenchy Salan, was from Marseille, France; and had been sent to America, to avoid any chance of him being arrested for his family’s activities and connection to the OAS, (Secret Armed Organisation), particularly Frenchy’s grandfather who was high up in the OAS, an armed French group, mostly made up of former French military, who were violently opposed to France allowing Algeria to become, run, and rule their own country. The breakup would force thousands of French to relocate back to France proper, most of them did not want that, especially Frenchy’s family, who had a lucrative shipping business in Marseille, that depended on its business with the Algerian French population.
By David X. Sheehan4 years ago in Fiction
Rest in Peace, Sweet Camelot
Dave Pierce grew up in West Bridgewater, and like most boys, loved sports, mostly basketball. When he was 12 years of age, he was 6 feet tall and everyone, especially family, expected him to be a great basketball player. Dave loved playing, but got anxious whenever anyone asked if he was going pro or not. “I’m 12, I don’t know what I’m doing in the next ten minutes, let alone as an adult”. He was bit self-conscious about his height, because inside, Dave felt small or just younger than everyone treated him and he was right.
By David X. Sheehan4 years ago in Fiction
Rest in Peace, Sweet Camelot
Eddie came in the side door of his small Cape Cod style house; located in the college town of Bridgewater, about 25 miles south of Boston. He bought here, only after he and his high school and college sweetheart, Brenda, decided to live close to their parents and aging grandparents.
By David X. Sheehan4 years ago in Fiction
Rest in Peace, Sweet Camelot
Eddie watched, as the crowd passed him. They were bunched together on the spiral climb up to The Boston Garden floor; inching their way upward, more like spawning salmon, than an every-day, up and down the street, ordinary line. It was far better watching as folks piled out of what was popularly called The Gardens. There was that push of humanity, like air rushing from a slow flat, just wanting to get out of that space.
By David X. Sheehan4 years ago in Fiction
The Domino Effect
Lately, I’ve read many pieces from the, increasing, group of folks I’ve subscribed to, and especially enjoy the ones where music is included. One of the first things VOCAL+ published for me was “Thank You Music, My Therapist”, which pretty much makes music, at least in the background, a prerequisite for shaking the memory tree in my head to release through my heart, the great editor, words that speak the feelings of the boy I was and the man, albeit old(er) that I am.
By David X. Sheehan4 years ago in Humans
