Bespoke

“Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.” ― Anton Chekhov

Latest Posts


  • A Choir of Donkeys and Angels

    Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent.   ~  Victor Hugo I had a reputation as a youngster that enshrouded me like cigar smoke hovering over Churchill on a still summer evening. I… Continue reading

  • A Good View of God

    I’m a home builder by trade, but when I grow up, I want to be a writer. Since writers publish books, that’s the next step. Bankruptcy is the one thing common to both writers and builders. While the financial poverty… Continue reading

  • How Deep the Father’s Love for Us

    Sunday morning during communion while the church sang, “How deep the Father’s love for us,” I sat and listened unable to sing, because I had a softball stuck in my throat. I had just read a text from my brother… Continue reading

  • Finding the Right App for Love

    Kid these days. They aren’t like Karen and me, just as we weren’t like our parents, just like they…well, for instance, Great-Grandma Beck was 14 when she married, Mom and Dad 19 when they married, and I was 25. My… Continue reading

  • Grandma and the Luxury of an Unexpressed Thought

    Billy Graham and my Grandma Mildred, side by side, illustrate a conundrum of mine; why do some folks talk non-stop and others hardly at all? Billy Graham was one with the gift of gab, my Grandma Mildred Davis went the… Continue reading

  • Seven Reasons Dez Bryant did NOT Catch that Football

    This was a football catch for the ages in a million backyards, a thousand Friday nights, and a hundred campus Saturdays, just not according to the technocrats at the National Football League. Continue reading

  • 2014: Remembering Christmas

    This detachment from the materialism of the season reminds me of the time we took the kids to California and Uncle Clark gave all eight children a lump of coal. It’s the conundrum of Christmas. Continue reading

  • Kayak the Caney

    Brandon and I launched our kayaks just below the Cherokee Bridge waterfall unsure of the legality of our venture not to mention the health risk. We set off to kayak the Caney River, because we felt like it, in the… Continue reading

  • Sixty Years on a Chalkboard

    We celebrated our parents sixtieth wedding anniversary the day after Thanksgiving and while taking family pictures in the church sanctuary at the Dewey Church, I saw light emanating from the holy of holies, the door leading to the inner room… Continue reading

  • Twelve Hair Cowlick

    My brother Toby is six years younger than me. As a three-year old lad, he was universally adored by teenage girls at church, wooed and cooed over because his dark eyelashes fluttered like lazy cabana fans and his black hair… Continue reading