I Am Lucius van Dyke III

This post is not currently part of the “I am Lucius van Dyke story,” but is being retained for archival purposes. If you are following the story through-line, you should jump forward to this link: Off to work

Her house, two doors up from ours, was a white Cape Cod with a finely manicured lawn, so perfect that children and dogs dare not to step foot upon its velvet grass.

“Come in boys,” said Mrs. Baker.
“Thank you Mrs. Baker,” said my mother. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Read the rest of this entry »

“I’ve seen your poster,” I said to Carnal Carrie. “My father had it downstairs in his office.”
“Really!?” Carrie said excitedly. “Which one? The tiger skin rug? The bubbles?”
“The feathers.”
“Oh, that was one of my favorites.”

Carrie tapped her cigarette into the ashtray and took a long drag. Read the rest of this entry »

My name is Lucius Van Dyke III. The Van Dykes came from Amsterdam one hundred years ago this year. This year is our American Centennial.

My great-grandfather, Gregor Van Dyke was a son-of-a-bitch. He was an engineer on the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad who was seldom home but when he was, you knew it.

He met my great-grandmother, Evaline, at a beer garden in an Ohio steel town. She mistook Gregor for her fiancé during a particularly rigorous polka. She didn’t notice any difference until the next morning. Nine months later, Lucius Van Dyke, my grandfather, was born. Read the rest of this entry »