Walk down any Main Street in this beautiful country early on a warm July morning. The air is still heavy with the sweet humidity of summer, and the dew clings stubbornly to the carefully manicured lawns of your neighbors. Look up at the porches, where the paint might be peeling just a little bit from […]
The Echoes of River Street I remember walking down the cobblestone paths near River Street in Troy, New York many decades ago. The old brick buildings stood tall against the gray sky. You could almost hear the echoes of the past if you listened closely enough. The river breeze always carried a hint of industry, […]
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 […]
I often sit on my porch as the sun dips low and think about the generations who walked this soil before us. You can almost feel their presence if you sit quietly enough. Picture a young father in the middle of the nineteenth century. He is standing in a dusty, crowded street in an eastern […]
The Weight of a July Afternoon I remember the days when a July afternoon felt like a heavy woolen blanket draped over the entire neighborhood. The air would go perfectly still, so still that you could hear a dog barking three streets over. We would sit out on the front porch in sturdy wooden rocking […]
The Porches of Our Youth I remember the summer evenings of my childhood with a clarity that sometimes aches. The air tasted like honeysuckle and dust. The soundscape of our street was a symphony of human life. Cicadas hummed in the old oak trees. Ice clinked in heavy glass pitchers. Screen doors slapped shut as […]
The Living Heartbeat of Our Borderlands I remember standing on a dusty corner in El Paso, Texas many decades ago. The warm afternoon wind carried the smell of roasted green chiles and hot tortillas across the river. The sounds of children laughing mixed with a distant radio playing a sweet, slow waltz. In those days, […]
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 […]