The Fine Art of Flying
It’s a mess, that’s what it is. When you land in Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta Third World International Airport, you’re walking into a battle zone.
Americana
The William Penn Overture
I like Pennsylvania. They’re nice here. They say “yous” and “yinz” and “soda pop.” They have Appalachian manners, a steelman’s work ethic, and potholes big enough to swallow Peterbilts.
How to be a Real Columnist
Here is how the typical morning of a columnist goes. You sit down at the computer. And before you write, you begin by asking yourself the age-old question, “Why should anyone care what I have to say?”
Shaking Your Butt
How did I get here? What career path led me to this moment? Why am I onstage, before several hundred, shaking my fundaments?
Of Life and Heinz Ketchup
I miss glass bottles. I come from a generation of glass. And therein lies a fundamental difference between my generation and the current one.
El Camino de Santiago and Me
The math teacher and I went for a five-hour walk through town while wearing huge backpacks and yet we are not Marines. We are just middle-aged married people.
Smart Phone, Dumb Author
I bought a flip phone. One without a camera or a touchscreen. Without AI, facial recognition, video chatting, GPS, or the ability to flush my toilet from the other room. It’s a “stupid” phone. A device with the same level of intelligence as a member of Congress.
Country Folk
The January snow/ice storm kept us snowbound for seven days. My farm tractor couldn’t move the 4” of snow on top of the 2” of ice that was over the 6” of the first snow on our ¾ mile driveway.
The Good Ole Days
The news is in. Less than one third of Americans have ever written a physical letter in their lifetime.
Me Braiding Hair
I shouldn’t be braiding hair. But there I was. Giving it my best shot. We were in a hotel lobby. The 19-year-old sat with her back facing me. Her violent red hair in my hands.
A Day at the Aquarium
You never know how truly short life is until a 19-year-old girl, who is preceptive and sweet, and of exceptional intellect, a girl who made the university president’s list, stares at you sincerely, with warmth in her eyes, and with all her heart, calls you an “old person.”
Out of Bounds
Who reading this can recall when the Super Bowl was played in mid-January? How many can remember when the NFL’s championship game was called just that: The NFL Championship game?
The Morning Assault
Wake up. Start coffeemaker. Turn on TV. A panicky news journalist is saying America is doomed and only minutes away from exploding. And if not America, at least my house. Turn off TV.
Freedom Requires Personal Responsibility
To be free of excessive government control (oppression) requires accepting responsibility for our lives and the consequences of our actions. When people accept responsibility, and act smartly, very little government control is needed to maintain social order.
A Few Things I Love About America
Americans are arguing right now. And believe me, I get it. There is a lot going on. Everyone has differences of opinion.
But I wondered if we Americans couldn’t put aside our disagreements for a moment, and agree on a few things we love.
Questions, Remarks, and You-Sucks
Sean Dietrich pithily responds to reader mail in a manner that only he can.
Three Dog Night
In light of the critical world events taking place in the news, I know many of you are anxious to know more about my dogs.
Back to the Future
It seems like everyone is talking about AI. It’s on the news. It’s in every newspaper. “AI is taking over the world,” the media headlines declare. “AI replaces 12 million jobs.” “AI wins Miss America Pageant.” AI might be writing this right now. There’s no way to know.
Scenes From a Tennessee Nursing Home
A middle-aged guy sat at the piano. The middle-aged guy plays by ear. He can’t read music because as a kid he was too obsessed with girls to practice “Hot Cross Buns” under the weight of Mrs. Downing’s glaringly sinister eyes.
What Happened to American College?
College is hard work. Not just mentally, but physically. Frank has six classes today. Thus, Frank is compelled to carry a heavy pile of physical textbooks FOR EACH CLASS. A stack of hardbound paper literature roughly equalling the same weight as the Jefferson Memorial.