It wasn’t when I got the hang of cursing, exquisitely and generously, tutored by the bigger kids at the back of the school bus. It wasn’t when I puffed on my buddy’s mom’s unfiltered Kools in the woods—throat raw, lungs afire, coughing triumphantly. It wasn’t when I thumbed through Dad’s Playboy magazines and delighted at the sight of nipples peeking through an open plaid flannel shirt. It wasn’t when I thought I was the last one on the playground to know how babies are made. (After a night in a tent in the backyard with … Continue reading Splitting Wood by David Sapp →