LeeWords

June 28, 2026
by Lee Eiferman
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An Exciting Life

He was drawn to grand gestures. To outsized risks. The sort that would annihilate his retirement account and leave him scrambling for mercy. The trick was to remain cool under pressure and stomp his heart out till the music stopped.

Lately, he’s noticed grand changes sweeping through his life. The bar he liked to frequent was sold to a fresh-faced Indian couple who had no interest in consuming alcohol. When he tried selling them on alcohol’s finer points like how it can blunt an extreme case of dread, the new owners sighed, felt sorry for him and wouldn’t charge him for a refill.

Nothing, not creditors closing in, becoming too demanding, or following him to said bar would slow his roll. Cramp his style. We wondered if he suffered from an advanced state of YOLO or did he fear mold, mildew, stasis settling in and claiming him as it had so many of his friends.

June 26, 2026
by Lee Eiferman
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Like Tracks in the Mud

I believe we’re in a constant state of flux. Somedays we’re narcissists. Somedays we’re selfless. We hold the door open for the next person coming through. We yield our seat on the train to the elderly. The infirmed. We notice a hungry colleague eyeing our dessert and offer them a taste. A half.

Other times we can’t be bothered. We’re too busy fighting the internal argument with ourselves. Our partners. Niggling over the nuance of who did what last. Too busy to notice the elderly person on the train barely hanging on or what our lover is really asking in the hostile silence between words.

Like I said, it’s a dance, a complicated dance with complicated moves we’re always having to relearn.

June 23, 2026
by Lee Eiferman
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I Wanna Hear Your Story

I do. I will sit past the first story turn which might take 3 or so minutes. With the group I tend to hang with, that’s all you get. One story turn. You need to bring it home around that point. If not, you have to wave your arms and put on a show to merit the extra attention.

People, friends, friends of friends are eager to tell you their story. If I’m patient, I’ll hear new stories and dip into new worlds without having to board a plane. I hear about the nephew suing his aunt when he trips on her front steps. I hear tragic stories of friends breaking up. Funny stories I could file under the heading “idiot things I’ve done.” Memories of perfect meals with vivid descriptions of how the veal was braised. The pie crust kept crisp. One story stacks on the next and then mingles with an image of swimming in inky dark water surrounded by luminescent fish which felt like a blessing.

You might think it sounds like a hat on a hat. Maybe that’s as good as life gets.

June 9, 2026
by Lee Eiferman
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Worth Noting

It’s a big store. A big impersonal chain store which sits right off the four-lane highway. I go there when I have to. When I can’t bear paying twice as much to support the local shop. And at this big, efficient money machine of a store, there’s a cashier who sings made up ditties while ringing up your order. His voice soars but stays firmly on key. His tunes always have an upbeat, can-do cadence. Maybe you’ve heard something like it in a TV commercial, for say…furniture polish?

He isn’t trying to sell us on his show-stopping “creativity.” He’s just there. Working his tunes. Ringing up first this sale. Then the next.

Like clockwork, he lifts me right up.

May 29, 2026
by Lee Eiferman
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X Marks the Spot

I work as a cashier at the local grocery store. They always put me at register two or three whereas the real action happens at registers six and seven. People move through the store clockwise and queue up at the registers closest to the dairy aisle. I get the spillovers.

They’ve also been cutting back my hours and threatening to replace us with self-checkout kiosks.

I was sharing my worries with a friend as we walked in the park last Tuesday morning. At the top of a ridge, our path was blocked by sturdy tree trunks propped up to form a giant X. Maybe because I’ve grown dreamy and out of touch, I wondered if someone might have buried a treasure there.

Why not? Don’t they say you miss 100% of the swings you never take or words to that effect?

So I bought a shovel.

April 6, 2026
by Lee Eiferman
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Life’s Not So Grand Mysteries

I spotted her as she headed to the produce aisle. Her long wedding train swept the floor, gathering dust and bits of debris in its wake. She stopped in front of the apples. Smelled first the Cosmic Crisp and then a reliable Cortland. She had a galette in mind, she told me. The recipe was burning a hole in her imagination. I was just about to ask her whether it was her intention to serve it at her post wedding festivities, when the groom whisked her past the cashier to the exit. I doubt she made the galette that day though I had to wonder when exactly was she planning to make? Bake it?

Some mysteries float past us. Some are weightier than others. Are you okay with that?

March 30, 2026
by Lee Eiferman
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The Strange Way the World Works

She was what her parents and teachers would characterize as a wild child, who went her own way with purpose. She wore a winter coat until she decided it was genuinely hot out. Wouldn’t take anyone else’s word when they tried to explain the concept of spring.

He grew up in the middle of the country on a farm. It was clear to him at an early age that he was not meant for farm work. He kept forgetting to clean the barn. Water the seedlings. Instead, he got lost in feeling the vast expanse of sky and space.

When he first laid eyes on her it reminded him of standing on the edge of the field and staring into the vast unknown. She liked the way he held her gaze as he prattled on about this n’ that, stuff n’ nonsense.

They instilled in their son a firm belief in big, juicy terms like “justice” and “rectitude”. So, it should come as no surprise that the grown child, now a man, didn’t hesitate when receiving a fatal cancer diagnoses. He hoped the first train to the capital. And with the phrase “regime change” echoing in his head, he navigated the dense web of security and did just that.

March 3, 2026
by Lee Eiferman
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Brace for Impact

Everything about Sophie made Bruce’s body misbehave. His heart constantly hammered in her presence. His mouth grew dry. His knees buckled. By the time he mustered the courage to ask her out on a date, he had come to think of being around her as “My Sophie Syndrome.”

They met up at a coffee shop. He had read somewhere that sharing a coffee was the perfect first date. It was quick and didn’t imply a lengthy slog should things go south during appetizers. They talked extensively about their miserable childhoods, problematic teenage years and equally problematic post-college fumbles. Their conversation seemed to flow from one topic to the next. Her nose crinkled with delight when he told her about a particularly disastrous birthday party his Mom threw for him in third grade. The party was such a success that the landlord insisted they move out before the end of the month.

Just as they were packing up, it started to rain. Bruce gave Sophie his umbrella, adding with confidence, “I’ll get it from you next time” as if there would be a next time.

Late that night as he chewed over the details of the date, he knew with certainty that he’d never see her again. And if he did, she’d for sure forget his umbrella.

February 25, 2026
by Lee Eiferman
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Sunk Cost Fallacy

Since she couldn’t afford to buy a table at the Wellness Fair, Marie sunk all her money into buying a food truck. She’d park it right near the front door of the Convention Center. Slept in it every night so that she wouldn’t lose her place the next day when the doors opened and a fresh crop of customers arrived.

In her first year, her very first year, she made a killing. Her CBD creams, gels and sprays flew off the shelves. She talked to other vendors and found out she could double her price point simply by buying a table inside.

Meaning she’d have to sell the truck at a loss. No matter how many times her accountant explained the error of sunk cost fallacy, that she’d make more money in the long run, she panicked. Waited for the lecture to be over and for him to pour her a stiff scotch. Drink in hand, she’d promptly change the subject to something more agreeable. Less divisive.

(Photo: Tim Duch)

February 20, 2026
by Lee Eiferman
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It’s Only

Beware of the boss who asks you to do something extra beyond your customary area of responsibility and caps off the request with the phrase “It’s only…” in a vain attempt to minimize the scope of work. “It’s only a weekend. One weekend out of the year.” AND “It’s only this year’s inventory.” And finally “It’s only a few hours Saturday and a few hours Sunday. It’ll go by in a flash.”

Bernie thought about the story Rumpelstiltskin which she read to her daughter last night and wished she too could summon magical help simply by despairing. When she arrived Saturday morning, she tried embracing the It’s Only mindset. But at each turn, she found the job expanding rather than shrinking. Cases of Chilean wine weren’t properly tagged. Flavored vodka was consistently mislabeled as Mescal. Post-tariff Scotch was tagged at pre-tariff prices.

It was a mess. Rather than force fitting a sunny attitude on this bummer of a weekend, Bernie embraced the headache and found that without the burden of trying to make it small, the job finally ended without further heartache or oceans of ill will.

(Photo: Tim Duch)