Why Do I Play Pickleball?

Karen and I just got back from Edmond where we won a medal in mixed doubles. Karen thinks we should get money rather than medals. I remind her that I’m a two time loser in side jobs…golf (I made $271.00 in 1982 as a pro) and writing (I received $107.20 in book royalties in 2019) which works out to 4 cents an hour. We should just be grateful for a medal and love of sport. Folks often ask me these days about pickleball. What is it? Why do I play? I often reply with details…the size of the court and … Continue reading Why Do I Play Pickleball?

Riding the Rails with Harriet and Grandma

My sister and I rode one of the last passenger trains passing through the Bartlesville depot. Grandma Taylor lassoed us onto that train because she wanted a break from driving her clunky AMC Rambler. She wasn’t great at driving and she was even worse at stopping. My nose collided with the cigarette lighter of that Rambler when I was 4 years old. Grandma hit the brakes and I slammed into the dashboard cutting the underside of my nose creating a scar that I only notice now when I shave. I grew up in a neighborhood miles from the railroad tracks, … Continue reading Riding the Rails with Harriet and Grandma

Haunted Houses & Bars of Orion

Lately I’ve been feeling like I’m 14 years old. Which is my typical maturity level, but no, I’m referring to the other cognitive signposts of that age. Take pickleball for instance.  As I compete in pickleball tournaments and the competitive juices flow, I feel 14 years old once more. Seven matches later, I realize I’m not 14, because every joint in my body is telling me to find a chair. Which reminds me of a story my Dad told to me about walking downtown in the shopping district with all the plate glass windows and looking aside he saw his … Continue reading Haunted Houses & Bars of Orion

Tell me your life story in 4 minutes

Tell me your life story in 4 minutes. This is a question I have been asking my friends and family. Their first reaction is stunned silence, a deer in headlights. Then slowly, the wheels begin to turn and they speak, measured and careful words, maneuvering around covered landmines. The years roll away and they become 10 years old again, and they never seem to get to their children or marriage or faith or career.  I asked by brother-in-law if he remembered where he was 50 years ago when Neil Armstrong did his thing on the moon. He was 10 years … Continue reading Tell me your life story in 4 minutes