I’ve had one quote on my wall for over 30 years. It’s Theodore Roosevelt’s famous lines comparing the “critic” to the “doer.” It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit …
The fire spread through Washoe Valley, hopping from tree to tree, jumping over highways and attacking homes, barns and businesses. The Holy Spirit Catholic Mission burned to the ground, leaving only a five-foot statue of the Virgin Mary in its wake. The north wind headed the …
My ears were itching. I took out my hearing aids and slipped them into my shirt pocket. Hours later, I put my shirt in the hamper. That night, Sherry did the laundry. My hearing aids came out clean, dry and useless. I experienced a week of dull sound. No birds chirping. No …
How soon these cat lovers forget. Perhaps my favorite pet of all times was Roy M. Quick. I told you the story a few years ago, but I’m getting too much static about my obsession favoring the canine species. Here’s a recap of my love affair with my tabby pal: I think …
The answer was repeated over and over 60 years ago at Brookside Park. Pickup basketball games were played every day, year-round. When one of us grade school “stars” would mess up (drop a pass, commit a hard foul or accidentally throw an elbow while going for a rebound), he …
Who would have thunk? Certainly not me. Yet, this celebrates the 1,000th blog post I have written over the last decade. You have been so kind and supportive. Your email responses have encouraged me to keep writing. Much of your feedback has made me a brighter and better …
I was walking the path around Mills Park. My mind was cluttered. Things hadn’t gone my way all day. Three little girls (maybe age 5 or 6) were holding hands in a circle and singing “Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear… Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair.” I stopped and smiled, then laughed. I …
After thousands of responses to my blog and books, it arrived yesterday. A real email with a name change to protect my critic: Don, Your ego is through the roof. Why do you think anyone gives a damn about your pathetic life and your stupid dogs? You bore me and anger me at …
I wish some of the friendly skirmishes I have with Sherry could play out like a football game. She often accuses me of things I said or did that are totally off the mark. She thinks I went out of bounds in my behavior when my ”accurate” recollection tells a different …
When I was a little boy in Ames, Iowa, and out somewhere with my mom, Irene (the “supreme commander”), and my dad, Vern (the “indentured servant”), a beautiful scene would suddenly appear. It could be a hummingbird on a red rose or a rainbow appearing after …
