The election, right?

The election, right? Less than three months now and we can move past it and hopefully get some things done. I’m glad to be in the final stretch after having to sift through so many candidates and worrying about the direction victors might take us. I’m still not sure why some of them even ran given their questionable grasp of the issues. Yes, it will be nice to finally elect two representatives from a field of thirteen to represent Ward 1 on theRead more

Why I write

Writing is not my profession but my obsession. Writing, or the desire to write, haunts me and drags me back when I flee. I’ve generally not used the term “writer” alongside my name because I’ve not thought of myself as one who has earned the label. But the term “writer” includes more than a professional crafter of books, articles, and stories. For example, this entry from Dictionary.com defines “writer” as a noun, “3. a person who commits his or her thoughts, ideas, etc.,Read more

Exposed

Life looks and feels like this when I open my heart and head to stuff lingering below the surface…beauty, compost, renewal, death. It took some trudging to arrive at this beach with its exposed matter and it takes intentional work to uncover and sort through life’s accumulated debris. The intentional uncovering, sometimes painful, is valuable in learning what holds one back. There’s beauty in most of it, even in things that should be acknowledged and then discarded. Life…with its mornings & evenings, low tides & high tides, pain &Read more

The sound of quiet

Jennifer and I took a multi-day road trip that culminated with a visit to remote northern Utah to visit land art installations by Nancy Holt (Sun Tunnels) and Robert Smithson (Spiral Jetty). The piece pictured here is Sun Tunnels, 1976, by Nancy Holt. The large tunnels were created and laid out in an X shape corresponding to the summer and winter solstices. The piece is located 45 miles north of Wendover, Utah, in the Utah desert, where we did not encounterRead more

Nostalgia, fathers, and finding our way

My dad passed from this life roughly three years ago and I miss him. Rather, I experience sentimental longing, or nostalgia, for the idea of him. I had a good relationship and experience with my dad. He taught me many things, supported many of my childhood aspirations, expressed love for me, helped me achieve some life goals, and we shared a love of reading. I miss spending time with him and miss the idea that somebody who helped bring me into thisRead more

Bitter with the sweet

Every year, a week after my wedding anniversary, I remember my Naval Academy friend and classmate, Jay, and my sister-in-law, Lana. Both are gone now, one to a naval plane crash and one to brain cancer. I miss their presence on this planet (even if our paths didn’t cross much while they were here because life is mobile and busy and challenging). And I miss other friends and colleagues lost too early to terrorism, war, cancer, and more. Life isRead more

30 years: a love story

Jennifer and I wed 30 years ago in our hometown church. She (art history major and artist) and I (newly commissioned Marine Corps officer) vowed to live our lives together. Thirty years on and having seen many marriages end by divorce or all-too-early deaths, we hold no illusions that what we’ve created is guaranteed to survive another three decades. But we do know this…we love each other, and we like each other. And liking each other came long before loving each other. Our story began when we met inRead more

Resisting the eyes of the tiger

I tripped and fell while walking to work on Friday, one of those middle-of-the-street, catch-your-toe-on-a-crack falls. In younger days I would have bounced up while hoping nobody witnessed the event. With this fall I just laid there, and then yelled, “Oh, fuuuuucckk. It hurts!” That’s not an expletive I use much, but it just came pouring out in the moment. Once I managed to rise it was obvious I was alone in the street with my injured ego, unless someone secretly watched through windowsRead more

My journey back

There was a time when I endeavored to build a vast library of physical books in my home. A visible badge of honor marking the territory I’d read during a lifetime. Something to pass on to others. A daily visual reminder of words digested. For years I accumulated and stored and hoarded. And over time dust collected, and the space filled, and I soured on my initial dream of creating an admirable personal collection of books I’d read. On the heels ofRead more