Books
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I once loved corduroy. Corduroy was more than fabric. It was an early form of communication. You could draw pictures on it or write a note to the friend sitting beside you simply by running a finger across the floating yarn and pushing the fibers in one direction. Best of all, nothing you wrote…
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I’m writing a book. My daughter is baking and selling bread. My brother runs a wood shop, making wooden blocks for children.
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If I could do it all again, I’d be a journalist—back when reporters smoked pipes, wore cardigans, and called in breaking news from pay phones. Journalism runs in my family. My uncle Rudy Taylor, cousin Andy Taylor, and cousin Jenny (Taylor) Dively have owned, written for, and edited several newspapers in southeastern Kansas. I’ve always…
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Excerpt from the book Seven Hills: This story is fiction, though it feels true. One of my favorite childhood pictures shows me dropping a dime into an offering plate at Church. Mom, Dad, and my older sister watch solemnly as an unknown man awaits my gift. I always wondered if I plunked the coin or…
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I grew up in a world of rote learning. For instance, I once knew all the abbreviations for the states before someone got wise and decided you only need two letters for each state. Kansas was rendered as Kans. which if you are scoring at home, saves you two letters but costs you a period.…
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Karen and I were driving through Wisconsin farmland a couple of years ago, and I was overcome by pastoral splendor although it may have been too many cheese curds. I began singing America the Beautiful, like Ray Charles, because after all, my middle name is Ray. I’ve always loved that song. It’s not ambivalent, it resolves,…
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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 of writing is constant, the financial woes of builders are violent, like a train derailing…

