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Lad Tobin

As seen in: The Sun Magazine, Identity Theory
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Articles by Lad Tobin

Gogol’s Nose and the Ghost in My Machine

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By Lad Tobin, Utne Reader
| Identity Theory Verified
The first time my iPhone went rogue, it FaceTimed a woman I had just met. Since my phone was on the nightstand at the time, I was shocked to hear it talking to me: “Lad? Is that you? Is there a problem?” When I saw the screen, my shock turned to mortification since staring right at me was a woman with bed-headed hair (it was midnight) and an alarmed expression. It took me a second to recognize her as Lynn, the host of the Airbnb we were renting that week. “Oh, I’m so sorry.
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Selected Poems | By Sarah Freligh | Issue 440 | The Sun Magazine

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By Sarah Freligh, Lad Tobin, Marion Winik Verified, Jennifer Mason-Black
| The Sun Magazine Verified
Donut Delite: 1969 All summer I tossed wheels of dough into a sea of grease, where they browned and crisped while I smoked half a cigarette. By the time the owner stopped by, the air would be humid with sugar, the bakery cases filled with rows of doughnuts I’d frosted and sprinkled. He’d pull a buck from his wallet to pay for his cruller, his cup of coffee, and show me the photo of his son squinting into the light, smiling like a man who didn’t know he would die at Khe Sanh.
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Dawn And Mary | By Brian Doyle | Issue 452 | The Sun Magazine

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By Brian Doyle, C.J. Gall, Lad Tobin, Danusha Lameris
| The Sun Magazine Verified
Early one morning several teachers and staffers at a Connecticut grade school were in a meeting. The meeting had been underway for about five minutes when they heard a chilling sound in the hallway. (We heard pop-pop-pop, said one of the staffers later.) Most of them dove under the table. That is the reasonable thing to do, what they were trained to do, and that is what they did. But two of the staffers jumped, or leapt, or lunged out of their chairs and ran toward the sound of bullets.
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