Bespoke

Family

  • My German Vacation Journal 6: trains canoes and shoes

    To the train we skipped along a trail by the lake, under a bridge, into a tunnel, to Rathaus, or council house where the city government is located. We ate bratwurst and currywurst and walked to get gelato. Then canoes… Continue reading

  • My German Vacation Journal 4: Breakfast at Lake Alster Hotel

    “See dad, this is why I love Europe.” Lauren chirped as I awaited the definitive progressive announcement of civilization, a word picture that sums it all up. “Hmm, what is it?” I intoned with jet lag weariness. “They have armoires!”… Continue reading

  • Butch, Sundance, and Jimmy

    Yesterday, sitting in my recliner on a Sunday afternoon, half-awake, my cell phone rang. It was Jimmy. I knew he had just been released from OU Medical Center in Oklahoma City. I jumped from my chair and ran outside because… Continue reading

  • The Best Shortstop I Ever Saw

    A Gatorade cooler dumped on my head moment of clarity regarding my diminishing skills as a shortstop happened one summer evening in the hole between short and third as I reached down across my body for a grounder and caught a… Continue reading

  • Living Your Life in the Cloud

    Part of my Saturday mornings are intentionally aimless…and saturated with too much coffee. I become so driven by task during the week that I need to unhitch my mind and let it drift away with Noah’s last dove carrying a… Continue reading

  • 100 Years of Furious Indifference

    My maternal grandmother died three years ago, January 20, 2011, at the age of ninety-nine. She would have celebrated her 100th birthday May 1st, 2011 so I’m rounding to 100. I miss her…miss seeing her, hearing her laugh, gathering counsel… Continue reading

  • Merry Christmas 2013!

    The advent of Facebook has relegated Christmas letters to the category of sleigh rides and blinding silver tinsel, not that I don’t enjoy those, but it’s just easier to push a button. So here goes, a Christmas letter selfie opening… Continue reading

  • Magical Monotonous Christmas

    At the age of four, I doubted Santa for the first time. Not his girth or beard or constant jolliness, but rather my own worthiness to receive his gifts, and the weight of guilt rang in my ears with every… Continue reading

  • Table in the Son

    When you are young and the world is your oyster, older folks are wont to lend much wisdom thus rendering the use of knives to open the sublime stubborn shell, rather useless. As if allowing youngsters to pry open oysters… Continue reading

  • Telling Our Stories with Both Hands

    Karen and I have twenty-three children ranging in age from fourteen to thirty-three. We aren’t on the hook for college education on all of our children since twenty of them are nieces and nephews. But we do feel like they’re… Continue reading