In the late 1980s Eastpoint Mall had these large, square brick water fountains that anchored each corner. I remember sitting on the edge, the air-conditioned bricks cool on my bare legs, and staring into the glittering pool of wasted pocket change and dreams. I would ask my mom for a penny to toss in, after making a secret wish. And then another. It was addictive, once I learned all you had to do to get whatever my heart desired was to toss a penny into the fountain! It was just announced, and confirmed, that at the end of August 2026 Eastpoint Mall would shut down forever. The mall is already a shadow of its former self. All the good stores have long ago left--most went out of business--but now it will permanently close and become razed soon. A piece of Dundalk history and legend will be erased from time and space like so much of the town lately. With this announcement my buddies and I decided to walk around the mall, playing mallrats one final time to say goodbye, and make sure our m...

That word, Nostalgia. It used to signal comfort food of the soul for me personally. Today, that word, Nostalgia, ensures depression, and longing for a home I can never return to. The word, nostalgia , has become a neurosis, triggered by things I love and used for escape from the world. My brain's inability to comprehend time on such a large scale, such as decades that have passed in what felt like years, has provided me with an unwelcome loneliness. We used to have warm, yellow street lamps, and now we have these cold, lifeless, sterile white LED street lamps on every corner. The differences are stark, and we have lost something with the "upgrade" to cost-effective LEDs. I am having difficulties describing how awful the change has been. The feeling of home, once again, was in the warmth of those old sodium vapor lamps and now our neighborhoods are lit with hospital lights. These bright lights cut straight through to my soul while on my evening summer walks. The Dundalk I ...

In 1988 or 1989 I walked into a comic book shop for the first time with my parttime friend and parttime nemesis Mike Shupe. Mindbridge was a tight and narrow LCS, with a counter on the right as you walked inside. On the left were racks of new issues, and there I picked up my first comic book, Detective Comics #587 August 1998. Norm Breyfogle's art caught my eye and wouldn't give it back. Batman, standing in the rain in the middle of an alley, cape billowing with lightning streaking through the sky, became my favorite superhero in the instant I picked the issue up. Also on the wall also sat back issues of The Dark Knight Returns , Batman Year One , and Batman Arkham Asylum, A Serious House on Serious Earth . I could tell immediately all of these books were above my pay grade. I hated Frank Miller's art on the Dark Knight. It would take decades for me to fall in love with that book. At this point in my 10 or 11 years on Earth I preferred the comic book-y style of art of Norm...

They say you can't go home again. I've become haunted by this proverb. In my case I can go home again. Dundalk, MD is home, it's where I grew up. But it no longer feels like home. I don't live in Dundalk anymore, but I live close enough that I can visit when I get the itch to return to something familiar. Most of the food joints I ate at while growing up are long gone. The McDonald's I worked at on Wise Avenue--just across the street from my house--before my senior year in high school (summer 1995) was razed and rebuilt. Now, it's a box, an ugly box with no soul or character that is utterly unwelcoming. In the '80s and '90s the mansard-roof McDonald's restaurant wanted families to stay in and eat; but today, they practically demand you get your food and promptly leave. They don't want you there. In fact, they'd appreciate if you use the drive-thru, or better yet, get it delivered for another 5 bucks and just stay home altogether. Wise Ave McD...