All Posts

It’s six a.m. The train whistle blows, signaling the day’s tasks are demanding my attention and time. The day approaches. Most days begin...

They call it mountain time. I call it otherworldly, surreal in some ways, slow and dripping like that Salvador Dali painting. Things,...

“But also for this very reason, giving all diligence, add to your faith virtue, to virtue knowledge, to knowledge self-control, to...

I have come to believe. This statement evokes thought. If the emphasis is placed on the word “come,” the word suggests time and place....

For most of my conscious memory, I have hated cold weather. Shivers do not warm me. Toboggans are useless. Gloves are for fashion, and...

Growing up when homes were adorned by one television with three channels, rabbit ears and sitting two feet from it was the norm, my...

An old adage seeped into the space between my synapses this week, bandying about as if it were asking me to consider it once again. You...

“ But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellence of the power may be of God and not us. We are hard pressed on every...

Where should I begin? This is the question the creative act asks, every painting, every poem, song, novel, and essay. And life, the life...

Winter crept in this year, silent and dry. Sitting at the keyboard, one might dispute the observation. As I write, raindrops are playing...

On the southern side of Manchester Road, along a brief sliver of Route 66, in the St. Louis bedroom community of Maplewood, Missouri, a...

Wading through some grief over the loss of someone who anchored me at times, sensing the strangeness one feels when sudden loss is fresh...

Not sure when I first noticed that I was different, or turning this thought around, that all those other people were different than me....

How should I say this… …but to state it simply. There are two nows. There is now, the immediate need for my attention, the momentary...

Driving up Emery Street beside the graveyard, up from Carter’s Bottom, by the Flats, before today’s troubles fogged my ability to...

Good teacher, please tell us a story. There was a certain man who left his house to go camping. With him he took only his tent and a...

“Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek...

“Big deal, I’m used to dust.” Erma Bombeck suggested these words would be her epitaph. In her comedic genius, she spoke about life...

The following poem, A Small Prayer in a Hard Wind by Christian Wiman, speaks a truth to me. As through a long-abandoned half-standing...

The image holds firm in my heart. When a deep breath in my schedule allows me indulgence, my mind takes me to a simpler, more innocent...