• Archive

  • Dawson’s Creak

    Dawson and I are in a race of sorts. We’re both chugging along at a respectable pace, but now we see the end in sight. I’m heading for my sixty-seventh lap around the sun, while Dawson, my Sheltie (aka, Shetland Sheepdog), is face-to-face with his...
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  • RIP

  • Stuffocating

    Stuff. It’s everywhere. Pushing against closet doors, cascading off shelves, displacing cars from comfy garages into a cold winter’s blast. It’s even in our turkeys and teddy bears. We’re surrounded and outnumbered. And since this morning, I’m feeling a bit stuffy myself. One thing for...
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  • It’s ALL red cups — but it’s not

    Early last week, a self-styled evangelist held the Internet by the throat, protesting yet another supposed assault by the secular world in their never-ending war on Christmas. Holding up a plain red cup from Starbucks, Joshua Feuerstein, proceeded to rant and rave in a selfie-video...
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  • Land of the roasted bean

    featured image Land of the roasted bean fullscreen
    In the morning hours before the day turns from rosy to rotisserie, you’ll find me on the front porch swing, agitating my keyboard in full view of our neighbors and whoever chances to stumble by. This has been my a.m. regimen for years and I’ve...
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  • Scotch Tape

    Writer’s note: I thought it appropriate this graduation month to dust off this piece I wrote for the Davis Enterprise back in 2006. The article was in commemoration of my youngest son’s high school graduation — the first class to graduate from Leonardo da Vinci...
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  • A last hurrah

    I was having a conversation with my wife some years ago – the subject of our back and forth centered on the peaks and valleys of life in general, specifically, our life in general. It struck me that if you could plot one’s highs and...
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  • The conundrum of parenthood

    Nothing prepares you for parenthood. Not a book, nor advice from friends or family. You walk in blind and have to build your own eyes. And years later, after you’ve rubbed out the dust to look across that empty nest, you realize you’ve learned more...
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  • More than a Rockwell painting

    I am sharing a holiday dinner with my family. It is a large group – my wife and I, three daughters, two sons, grandchildren, husbands, boyfriends and girlfriends. We are a strikingly attractive group, a point I make with singular clarity and little conceit, because...
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