Marigold by the Fire
My blind coonhound sits before our fireplace. Staring into nothingness. Caught in the darkness of her own visionless world. “Marigold,” I call to her.
Americana
It’s Snow Joke
The first snowfall isn’t magical; it’s a mess and always has been. Clean roads turn grimy overnight, coated with cinder, ash and salt that seemingly sticks around until April.
Christmas Signs
Tony had become urban wallpaper. Almost invisible to civilized eyes. You see Tonys all the time. Standing at a stoplight. Asking for handouts. Most drivers just keep driving.
The Christmas Tree Lot
We arrived at the Christmas tree lot after dark. My wife and I walked the long aisles of pinery, scrutinizing each tree as though it were asking for our kid’s hand in marriage.
Little House in the Big Woods
It was Christmas Eve. Pa arrived back at the cabin in the wagon. His buckboard was loaded with crates and supplies. It was snowing heavily in the Appalachians that night.
A Short History of the “State of Superior” — And Why the 45th Parallel Still Matters
Ever since Michigan became a state in 1837, there’s been a quiet tug-of-war between the rugged north and the political south. The Upper Peninsula didn’t even want to be part of Michigan in the first place — it was handed to Lansing as part of the Toledo War settlement.
America 100 Years Ago
Being a teen in 1925 is no cakewalk. Most teens in the US have a hard life. Education is a luxury. About 8 million people are illiterate. Finishing high-school is a rarity. Less than 20 percent of US kids even attend high school.
Christmas Is Wonderful–and Christmas Is Hard
This year, let’s slow down amid the frenzy of the Christmas season, seek the quiet light of God’s presence, and rediscover the peace and wonder of Christ’s birth.
A Thanksgiving to Remember
Wake up early. Still dark outside. It is 30-odd degrees on Lake Martin and I can’t feel my unmentionables.
The 1940s cabin is poorly insulated. You could store Ben & Jerry’s products in the living room.
The creepy songs of our youth
While today’s kids twerk to songs featuring men calling women bitches and ho’s and stuffy to nasty to post here, we baby boomers smugly tune in the oldies stations to listen to the wholesome, romantic songs of our youth.
Emails from Friends
I need guidance on how to respond to these angry emailers. So, I turn to my dog, Marigold. Marigold is the most non-judgemental soul I know. I read emails aloud to her, then base my responses on her reactions.
A Camino Conversation
There was a big group of us walking together. Jamie and I were the eldest of the group. Most of these pilgrims were in their teens or mid-20s. They were kids, far from home. And strays of all species have a tendency to follow my wife.
How to Cook a Thanksgiving Turkey
The old woman felt weird, not cooking this year. But she’d given up cooking Thanksgiving ever since the stroke paralyzed half of her body and forced her into an assisted living home.
The Tryouts
The Little League team was good. Really good. The nine mop-haired, lanky boys, clad in classic ‘70s harvest-gold uniforms, were undefeated this season. They had a shot at the pennant. But then, devastation.
Some Kinda Kindness
The mid-80s. Detroit. The boy didn’t have much. He was one of those teens most people won’t notice. Each day, he walked to and from school with a ratty backpack on his shoulders, containing a pitiful lunch he made himself, since he had no mother to prepare meals.
The Chalkboard In My Kitchen
The wall is painted with black chalkboard paint. So it’s basically a big blackboard, just like the kind you once used for working out algebra problems in front of your whole class.
A Knitting Story
One day, a little girl visited the old woman’s house and asked for knitting lessons. The old woman was thrilled, of course. But the little girl was exponentially more excited—the child looked like she was going to detonate right there on the woman’s doorstep.
Confessions and Apologies from a Regular Guy
I used to think I was just a regular guy, going about my life, as President Lincoln once said: “with malice toward none and charity for all.” Boy, was I wrong.
Be It Ever So Humble
The old man answered every persistent question with patience. Then, the conversation took a turn toward the philosophical. It is a well-known fact that 8-year-olds are philosophers.
The Otter’s Mom
The Central California coast was covered in dense fog that clung to the world like a wet T-shirt. Morro Bay was gray and cold. The bay lies directly between Los Angeles and San Francisco. You’re looking at about 2,300 acres of Pacific tidal flats, marshes, and beaches, one of the few national estuaries in the …