In the folk’s basement, in 1978, my friends and myself were recorded on a cassette tape while making some music and sharing good times. Kindda makes you want to tap your toes and sing along:)
Gladryl, the Dachshund, loved to go fishing as much as I did. If she was within ear-shot of the front porch, the moment that I picked up a fishing pole on my way to the river, her head would perk-up, and off she’d head towards the water’s edge. Continue reading A Dog Goes Fishing (The Cabin on the River-Part Two)
The OCD has finally worked to my advantage. After 6 months of learning new things every single day, I’ve officially listed a book for sale on Amazon. Continue reading The New Book
The old saying that “money can’t buy you happiness” has been beaten to death; but the horse is still alive, for now.
One of the happiest times in my life was naturally one of poorest financially. Of course it was, or that first sentence would have been really silly. As a twenty-year-old, I lived in a cabin with a wonderful young woman, had two dogs, a canoe, and the river in my front yard. My net personal worth was around $173, depending on the day of the week. It went up on payday, down on the weekends. Continue reading The Cabin on the River (Part-One)
The Christmas Season isn’t the best time of year for many a sad soul. While seemingly everyone delights at the commercial symbols of Christmas, others feel an opposite emotion.
I never spoke with my son outside of the confines of his Mother’s womb. Perhaps the lack of a voice to remember relieves me of one less thing on which to grieve. I’m lucky, I suppose. The less, the better. Unlike the cold of winter, the loss of a child never goes away. Continue reading Just Because
Lonnie was 24 or 25 years old and must have been of Italian decent, guessing by both his looks and mannerisms. He could have easily been the side-kick to Scarface, a Mafia-Guido-want-to-be, but one with a terrific sense of humor. Standing near six-feet tall, his dark locks of hair were always perfectly in place, the creases freshly ironed on his waiter’s uniform, and when his shift began, an air of quality cologne surrounded him. Continue reading Lonnie Rigitoni