Articles and Stories
Summertime is finally here and along with it a long list of things to do as well. Well, okay, summer isn’t technically here yet. But all the signs point to it. The sun is shining longer in the sky and the temperature has risen to
I seem to be moving from erratic to consistent in so many ways—how and when I drive, how and when I eat, how and when I prepare for my classes and grade essays, how and when I hang out with my wife. I suppose
Back when I was in High school I took an art history class where we studied the life and works of artists from the Renaissance to the modern period. I had by this time already fancied myself an artist and had already figured out
I remember the night my father left. I was six. My mother told me the news with tears and sobs. My aunt, her sister, was there for hugs and support. We were in the kitchen at a yellow table; we sat on plastic covered seats.
2011 | Pastel - Chalk - Acrylic | on paper originally published November 1, 2011
2011 | Pastel - Chalk - Acrylic | on paper originally published November 21, 2011
There are certain ideas that have become common beliefs. They are used so often and have been repeated so many times that we just assume they are true. Call them what you will - misconceptions or myths or outright lies - the fact is they
I sit and look out my back window into the yard behind my house. It is large and full of trees; a combination of fir and pine and aspen. On this day, early in the morning it is cold and a fog is moving in.
I wheeled the bike from the garage and took a deep breath. It was the start of the lull week that happened every summer. The week when every kid I knew was off at camp and I was on my own. Every year the neighborhood
I am driving home from work in the rain. The traffic is heavy and I am upset. Not at anything in particular, just a strange combination of angry-sad, non-focused malaise. I have a feeling of something wrong, there is something missing. And the rain is
I’ve always enjoyed getting older. That may come as a surprise to some. It’s not the norm. The standard response when asked if your birthday is coming up is something along the lines of: I don’t want to discuss it or don’t remind me. Or
I woke up this morning and found myself 50 years old. It is a significant moment, a momentous occasion, a milestone worthy of celebration and revelry. Except that it isn’t. You see I don’t feel any different than I ever have. Oh sure I’m a
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