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Steve Kissing


Mathology 101

I knew the day would come. I could have told you in fifth grade that it would. The day I’m talking about is the day my daughter Gracie, then in fifth grade herself, asked for help with her math homework, and I was stumped. In fact, I was more stumped than she was. I tried to multiply this, divide that, and add this to the nu

The Urge to Purge

A few months back, I accompanied my friend Nancy to her storage unit in Mt. Healthy. She should have posted a warning sign. As the door rose on the single-car-garage-sized space, my neck muscles tensed up. It seemed very likely that I was about to get hit in the head by a falling chair, a box of Christmas ornaments, or a kid’s plastic kitchen set, complete

Oh Baby, Baby!

If all goes according to plan, by the time you read this, my wife and I will have said our first hellos to our latest arrival: twins. This will be a happy, momentous occasion for us even though some folks think I’m crazy for going through this all over again. You see, I’m already a 44-year-old father with two girls, ages 11 and 13, from a previous marriage. It’s been nearly a decade since I’ve been knee-deep in dirty diapers or had to strugg

Push “#” for Another Headache

I want to kill someone. Perhaps with my bare hands. Or a tree chipper.

Or maybe a high-pressure power washer. These homicidal thoughts have crossed my mind many times in the past few years. In each instance, the target of my rage has been someone in “customer service.” That’s a misnomer, for sure. Nowadays, customers are not so apt to be the recipient of service so much as the shaft. Often I

Hail to the Regular Guy

In November 2006, in this very column, I announced my candidacy for the presidency of the United States. Now, nearly a year and a half later, it is with considerable pride that I tell you that I am still very much in the race. I have endured, while all around me political stalwarts like Rudy Giuliani, Mitt Romney, and

Lite Green Living

If you stepped into my office at work, you’d probably notice something that looks like a plastic flower, its circumference that of a small dinner plate, suction-cupped to my window. It’s a solar charger that, once it soaks in direct sunlight for about five hours, can power my iPod. How cool is it to listen to “I Can See Clearly Now” on an MP3 player powered by the sun? Pretty cool. More important, how cool is it for Mother Earth that my iPod

Rebirth of the Fool

These days, few of us are caught by surprise when, seemingly overnight, a guy in his mid-40s starts dressing younger, acting younger, and then divorcing and marrying someone younger. Such men are often lampooned in TV sitcoms and movies. Women in their 40s are particularly dumbfounded by these men whom they believe to

God Help Me

When I was a child, my mom’s favorite TV program was The Phil Donahue Show. This was during the late ’60s and early ’70s, back before Donahue became a national celebrity and his show was still broadcast from Dayton. I typically didn’t pay much attention to the show, but one day, perhaps