Bespoke

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

Latest Posts


  • Pink podcasts

    Just finished another podcast of Mornings with Charlie Ann. We discussed concrete mix trucks, squirrels, pine cones, Tesla vs Edison, and why there are very few married pickleball partners. Macon, Georgia was awesome and the pickleball venue next to Mercer… Continue reading

    Pink podcasts
  • Roger’s Library Books

    I’m not such an unaware narcissist that I believe that I’m the only one Roger Hladky blessed in a powerful way. I was one among many.  It was long after Roger performed our wedding ceremony, his first to officiate. I… Continue reading

    Roger’s Library Books
  • A Mother’s Gaze

    My life is now viewed through the lens of my children’s children. They call me Bubs. Karen and I spent this past week with Jenna, Andrew, and their newborn girl, Charlie Ann. This brought back memories of bringing home our… Continue reading

  • Look up, child

    Look up, child. The moon once pregnant, rises above the trees and changes to a fertile crescent. Days go by, frost greets dawn. Leaves turn, yellow red brown, chastened from branches, by a blue wind. See the swirl of autumn,… Continue reading

  • Unfound Doors

    I’m writing this from the 17th floor of a beach-side balcony with one eye on the sun rising over the Atlantic Ocean and one eye on my screen. The sun rises in the east just like at home where Karen… Continue reading

  • Flying to Carolina

    My wife tells me she would like to get inside my head for a day and just look around. I tell her I’d like a little notice so I can tidy up the place, take out the trash, and make… Continue reading

  • Fishing with a Dotted Line

    The young woman helping us was friendly and we struck up a conversation. We tell her about our fly fishing trip and she says, “I love to fly fish!” She tells about her Dad taking her fly fishing just down… Continue reading

  • We May Never Pass This Way Again

    My summer of 1977 was bookended by Harry and Elvis. Harry Whittaker, the President of our Senior Class at College High School, always had a way of making you feel better than you had the right to feel about yourself.… Continue reading