I still remember the smell of roasted peanuts and warm celluloid at the old picture house downtown. It was a simpler time in many ways. We gathered in the dark, shoulder to shoulder with our neighbors. We looked up at that glowing rectangle with a sense of pure reverence. We watched ordinary men do extraordinary […]
The Porch Swing and the Passing Years The evening air always carries a certain kind of magic when the streetlights first flicker on. The crickets start their low hum in the tall grass. A warm breeze pushes through the old oak trees that line the avenue. The leaves rustle softly, whispering secrets of the past. […]
A Quiet Morning Reflection I sit on my front porch in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania on a quiet Tuesday morning. The autumn air carries a familiar crispness. I hear the familiar hum of the yellow school bus picking up the neighborhood children. They are carrying heavy backpacks full of math books and history assignments. It is the […]
The Myth We Grew Up Believing I remember walking down the dust swept boards of Front Street, Dodge City, Kansas as a young boy. The prairie wind had a way of whispering through the wooden slats of the old storefronts, carrying the scent of dry earth and sagebrush. My grandfather used to hold my small […]
The Front Porch and the Assembly Line If you take a stroll down Woodward Avenue in Detroit today, you will notice a city that is constantly reinventing itself. It is a beautiful thing to witness. But my mind always goes back to a different era. I remember the deep, resonant hum of the automobile plants […]
The Beautiful Mess of Progress Looking out over the quiet streets of my neighborhood, I often catch myself thinking about how much this country has grown over the decades. I see the old brick buildings downtown, standing shoulder to shoulder with new glass storefronts. I see young folks hurrying down the pavement, carrying their coffee […]
The Call of the Open Plains There is a certain scent that settles over the plains just before a rainstorm. It is a mixture of dry sage, restless dust, and sheer possibility. I have walked this American soil for many decades. I have seen seasons change, small towns blossom into sprawling cities, and wonderful new […]
The Dawn Chorus of the Working Man The coffee is always brewing before the sun comes up. There is a quiet magic in the predawn hours when the streets are still slick with morning dew. The only sound is the low hum of engines carrying folks to their shifts. I remember the crisp mornings of […]
The morning light hits the porch differently these days. It is softer. It wraps around the old wooden pillars like a familiar friend stopping by for a quiet visit. I sit here with my black coffee and watch the neighborhood slowly wake up. A young family is moving in next door. They are busy painting […]
The Quiet Promise of the Past I remember the steady hum of factories that used to echo across the river valley near my childhood home. The factory whistle would blow at five o clock every weekday. You could set your watch by it. Men would pour out of the large iron gates holding their metal […]