Bruce VanWyngarden's profile photo

Bruce VanWyngarden

Memphis

Senior Editor and Columnist at Memphis Flyer

Memphis Flyer senior editor/columnist; author “Everything That’s True”; “Aquarius Revisited: Seven Who Created the 1960s"; music, humor, all things Memphis.

Articles

  • 2 weeks ago | memphisflyer.com | Bruce VanWyngarden

    “‘Stink for a dime’ is an idiom that means to be extremely bad, unpleasant, or worthless. It’s often used to describe something that is so poor in quality or value that it’s not even worth the low cost of a dime.”Who among us has not fallen back on that popular saying, “stink for a dime”? It comes in handy now and then, right? What? You’ve never heard anyone say that? Well … okay, you got me. No one ever says that.

  • 3 weeks ago | memphisflyer.com | Bruce VanWyngarden

    I’m sitting on the deck, sipping a fresh-brewed cup of early coffee. It’s Easter, and the air is clear and bright and alive, offering the promise of another glorious Memphis spring day. The earth has resurrected itself and donned its finest vestments: Azaleas, dogwoods, irises, shamrocks, lantana — all manner of flowers large and small are in full bloom, turning the city, and my own backyard, into a celebration of color. There is a mixed chorus of birdsong coming from the trees above.

  • 1 month ago | memphismagazine.com | Bruce VanWyngarden

    Rubén Tree has done a lot of living in the 13 years between his graduation from Germantown High School and his current gig tending bar at The Second Line in Midtown. But the first thing he had to do was learn to walk again. “I tore a meniscus in a sports accident in high school and was in a wheelchair for nine months afterward,” Tree says.

  • 1 month ago | memphisflyer.com | Bruce VanWyngarden

    Perhaps the nadir of last week for me came Saturday morning, as I was standing in a sudden downpour with my two leashed dogs, imploring them to, well, pee.

  • 1 month ago | memphisflyer.com | Bruce VanWyngarden

    A pelican glides by just offshore, there, out where the blue dolphins dance, emerging and disappearing into the sea. The kite hangs overhead, side-slipping in the ocean breeze, tethered to your umbrella pole by a gracile thread. You push your new sunglasses up on your nose and soak in the sun, the blue sky, the bleached sand; you hear the surf mumbling, “Stay.”I could do it, you think, shifting in your canvas chair. “I could get a job renting beach umbrellas or maybe working on a fishing boat.

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