Mack D. Ames
Bio
Tongue-in-cheek humor. Educator & hobbyist writer in Maine, USA. Mid50s. Emotional. Forgiven. Thankful. One wife, 2 adult sons, 1 dog. Novel: Lost My Way in the Darkness: Jack's Journey. https://a.co/d/6UE59OY. Not pen name Bill M, partly.
Stories (75)
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Straight G. Content Warning.
"I'm gay." I surprised myself with the words. I'd never said them to anyone before, never acknowledged my deepest secret so boldly. I waited to see the other man's reaction. In the context of the conversation, the man's face didn't change before he responded.
By Mack D. Ames6 months ago in Men
Mint Condition
I thought of you today, Kathy, as I walked past your empty classroom. It was dark, as it has always been since you stopped work last September. I saw one of the signs I gave you that you taped to the window. I decided I wanted it back. I’ve also been wondering about the snacks you kept in the closet. Did you take the giant container of powdered creamer home?
By Mack D. Ames9 months ago in Men
Concussed
March 8th, 2025. A day that dogs my steps with cloudy thoughts, painful pauses, and glitchy memories. Mike was on his own, so Chris and I finished cleaning the church for Mom before driving to Nate's house. Spring was "just around the corner," but it could be a thousand corners away, for all we knew. Maine is not a state that welcomes spring early. The arrival of my favorite season comes as slowly as molasses running uphill in January.
By Mack D. Ames10 months ago in Men
Breaking the Depression Through the Lens
In the early 1980s, my brother graduated from high school and spent a year working for a local moving company while deciding what to do with his life. Our mother insisted that he attend a Christian college, so he looked for a school that would allow him to play baseball, and he eventually settled on Covenant College because our middle sister had discovered it and recommended it to him. Covenant is located on Lookout Mountain, Georgia, just across the state line from Lookout Mountain, Tennessee, where the famous Rock City can be found.
By Mack D. Amesabout a year ago in Photography
Two Fat Guys in a Boat
The Hunter Shannon was taking on water, and we were two miles from shore. I thought we were goners. Dad was never one to pay attention to details. He and his friend Calvin were drunk or high most of the time. Well, Dad was always drunk. Cal was usually high. It was funny sometimes, but usually it was sad. Dad had me selling coke and cooking meth by the time I was ten years old. The day that the Hunter Shannon sank around us, I was fifteen, and it was the first legit fishing job we'd been hired for in six months. I reminded Dad about the hole in the hold, but he ignored me and set sail for the fishing grounds anyway. "Just put a cork in the hole, boy," he said, which I did, dubious of the solution to be effective on the ocean waves we would encounter.
By Mack D. Amesabout a year ago in Fiction
"Ode" to the Eff Word
The single greatest change I encountered when leaving private and public school teaching for correctional facility instruction was the dramatically increased use of the F word all around me. Now, professionally speaking, my fellow employees and I are expected to avoid using such language, but human nature being what it is and the overall prison culture being what it is, the F, or as I call it, "Eff," word is difficult to avoid hearing or saying.
By Mack D. Amesabout a year ago in Education
Omni
In the 1970s, Dad bought a Chevy Suburban and a Dodge Van. After a time, he determined that we could only keep one of them. Now, the benefit of the Van was that it was reliable. The drawbacks were that there weren't enough seats for the whole family (we used folding chairs in the back sometimes), and the engine was in the front, so the rear-wheel drive had horrible traction in our snowy winters. On the other hand, the Suburban was a weighty vehicle that handled the snow well, and it easily seated everyone. The downside to it was its unreliability and its sticky gearshift. It was also a year or two newer than the van at the time of Dad's decision, and it was apparently the determining factor.
By Mack D. Amesabout a year ago in Wheel
Orange you glad?
St. Patrick's Day held an inside joke for the two of us. We're Protestant, so we always wore orange instead of green. When the pinchers came for us, we double-pinched back, laughing as we told them how they'd been punked. Well, that's the word we'd use today, but not one she'd ever use. She was too proper for that. She would smile with a twinkle in her eyes, and I'd be the one laughing. Thirty-seven years have passed since I thought of Saint Patrick's Day without sadness; 2025 might be different.
By Mack D. Amesabout a year ago in Motivation
