My wife Cathy hates pigs. It goes back to a childhood incident on her grandparents’ farm in Alabama. They raised cotton, chickens, dairy cows, and pigs. For reasons only a kid could understand, she and her cousins had an attraction to the pig pen and loved playing in it.
Continue reading “The Tiny Vase”
Cath and I were sitting on the front porch having a cocktail last night when the front came through. It was about 6 PM. The wind and the weather were wild, and we could see it approaching through the trees. The yellow leaves of the Tulip Poplars whirled and wandered before landing at our feet.
Continue reading “Weather”
I knew the exact moment I was about to lose an argument with the military: it was when my branch officer tried to redefine the word “volunteer” when the exact opposite was true. We had a disagreement in 1985 about my next assignment. I lost in the short term, but my life’s direction changed for the better.
Continue reading ““Volunteering””
With the Midterms approaching, politics are everywhere. Recently I was at a Nats game and talking with an 80+ year-old stranger. He confessed to me that he had voted Republican his entire life, but this year for the first time ever, he was voting Democratic.
Continue reading “Voting Dem for the 1st Time”
The great sheet of cloth covering the name of The Kennedy Center now appears to me more a funeral shroud. It is one of the many physical and political changes that make DC a less desirable place to visit right now. Let’s take a tour of those changes, including endless new fences, construction zones, and chopped-down trees.
Continue reading “The Shrouded City”
My war with the cattails continues. I have attacked them regularly at the pond for two years now. I trudge in the mud on the shoreline or arrive by boat, pulling them out one by one. They are densely packed and their root systems interconnect. I think they secretly laugh at my efforts.
Continue reading “Tales of the Cattails”
It wasn’t date night. We weren’t celebrating anything. It was just your average Wednesday evening, and we were tired of cooking. We decided to go out and wanted a nice restaurant. I said to Cathy, “Field and Main?”and she immediately answered “YES!” Off to Marshall we drove.
Continue reading “Wednesday Night at Field and Main”
If still alive, my buddy Tim would turn 71 on August 27th. I was recently thinking about Tim, while reminiscing about our friend Howard’s 10th birthday party in 1965. I still laugh at the story of an usher almost kicking us out of the Roxy Theatre when Tim shouted out, “LOOK AT THAT SPITFIRE!” in the middle of the movie, “Von Ryan’s Express.”
Continue reading “Tim and the Spitfire”
The dialogues always visit me in the night. “Who mourns the dead?” “We do.” “And who are you?” “Those who came before. The ones fortunate enough to survive, or lucky enough never to go to war. Soldiers we were, but now, we have questions.” I listen.
Continue reading “Nocturne at the Farm”
Ranch dressing. You know it. Most of you love it. Evidently, So do recent European World Cup visitors. I chuckle at that. While stationed in Germany in the ‘80s, Cath and I received Hidden Valley Ranch spice packets in care packages from home and introduced German friends to its deliciousness back then.
Continue reading “Chronicles of Hidden Valley”
