Kevin Chroust is a Chicago-bred, Colorado-based writer who works in sports (creator of the data-centric website ) and plays elsewhere (The Best American Travel Writing, ϳԹ and various publications that may or may not still exist). Among the contents of his wallet are several coffee shop punch cards from two states. Between finishing reading one book and starting another, he recalibrates by reading one Didion essay and one Hemingway short story. From December to June he skis, sometimes on crowded mountains with chairlifts where he pensively reminds himself he is part of the line, sometimes on secluded mountains with the occasional uphill track. Regardless, there is traffic, in which he, aggravated, reminds himself he is part of a line that should be moving faster. From May to November he grows things, and they frequently become ingredients on pizzas placed in a homemade wood-fired brick oven he believes is far enough away from the neighbor’s fence. He lives with his wife, Nichol, an award-winning special education teacher and yoga instructor with a Midwestern work ethic. Together, they patiently await entry into a waitlisted local bowling league. In Denver, there’s always a line.
Published
When I was a kid, I was fascinated by a traditional katana my grandfather had brought home from Japan in 1945. Years later, I decided it was time to find the heirloom’s rightful owner.