Rain drips from the eaves of our cabin porch near Westcliffe, Colorado, as Led Zeppelin’s The Rain Song plays in my ear pods. It’s 60 degrees and the sky is electric as I gaze at the Sangre de Cristo Mountains rising like blue steel in the distance. The mountains whisper as I write, distracting me,…… Continue reading The Naked Eye
Dad always had a travelin’ jones. He loved maps, highways, vacations, travel. It was an itch that could only be scratched with a road trip. As Dad lay dying, he asked the logistical questions one asks when preparing for a journey. What time is it? Can we drive through for barbeque? Where are my children? …… Continue reading On the Road Again
2020 April 5 I left for college my freshman year driving a Pontiac crammed with Advent stereo speakers and a Yamaha receiver. I was wearing my uniform of the times, Nike sneakers with a sky blue swoosh, a polo shirt and Lee jeans. Elvis had just left the building, he died in August…… Continue reading April 11, 2020
March 28 Questions of priority and sanity are framed in stark relief by cataclysm. For instance, “Why is it easier to buy marijuana than a good book these days?”, Wendy Paris asks in an LA Times article. Closer to home, a friend of mine wrote: “I’m seriously confused, Dunkin’ Doughnuts is still open but parks…… Continue reading April 4, 2020
These are strange days. The earth doesn’t seem to be spinning as fast, yet the moon rises and we rest awaiting another day and the wonder of what shoe will drop next. It is a dreary Saturday with no sports on television, as the barbarians are climbing the walls, my retirement account is shrinking, and…… Continue reading Strange Days
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)…… Continue reading Why Do I Play Pickleball?
We decided to get away this past weekend, so we visited our friends, Rick and Belinda, in Fayetteville. We watched the fleeting colors of autumn scatter underfoot as we walked the farmer’s market at the old town square looking at beautiful vegetables and contrarian havens of high gluten pastry. Karen grew up in the Garden…… Continue reading What I’ve learned eating pie
Charlotte Taylor was born June 24, 1935 in the panhandle of Oklahoma. Do the math if you want…Happy Birthday Mom!
We pulled our car into the driveway, narrowly missing a huge sycamore tree while striking the curb with the front wheel, and I told Karen that one can guess the age of a particular house by the width of the driveway. This house was from the Leave it to Beaver era. Dinner at Picasso’s in…… Continue reading Kathryn & the Sycamore
…children believe their parents to be fools when they are of “a certain age” and then they pass through vintage moment(s), return to us, and want to hang out, ask for advice, laugh at our jokes (or at least not roll their eyes quite as dramatically)…and yet they are still our children, only smarter than us, better looking, and somehow poised and eloquent and we think it strangely odd?