One Never Knows, Do One?

The awkward and ungrammatical  title is a thesis: shit happens. Some lives are bedeviled by cruel Fates. Jeff  Holmes, going from one imposed crisis to another, seems to learn stoicism. Each  relationship, each lonely time and every conflict results in sophomoric speculation  about human nature, eg, role-playing, free will and authenticity, His times  with his daughter are joyful, perhaps too much so.

When Jerry Bronk got out of  the Air Force he went down 101 to San Francisco, where he's lived---in the Bay  Area---off and on for...years. He's a some-time writer whose earnings at that  trade would put him on the sidewalk. So he's worked at the P O and various  'real work' assignments, some of which are similar to Jeff Holmes' experiences.  A stint at teaching English in Madrid ended with hepatitis. (Coincidental, of  course, like Jeff he's a high school dropout.) He's written on architecture and  design but fiction never sold. Dozens of letters (Harper's, The Nation, et al)  got ink but no dough.

Keywords: Beer, Honey, Story,  Dance, Chess, Army, Truck, Lawyer, Blood, House