Tag Archives: memories

“In the Beginning”

I hated high school. Yep. I was in the Class of ’68, but it wasn’t Rydell High and I sure as hell wasn’t anyone noticeable, even in a class of 50. Hell, when graduation rolled around, I was tied for … Continue reading

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“A Cup of Tears”

It’s been a while since I’ve done any writing.  I’ve been busy with all sorts of things the last few months–big remodel of the house (inside and out), traveled to the UK for two weeks, back and forth to the mountains … Continue reading

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“Circle of Gold”

On December 30, 1972, I married my best friend, Nancy Fender. She put a gold ring on my finger as we pledged to love and honor one another as long as we both lived. January 17, 2013—forty years, eighteen days, … Continue reading

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“Shaving”

We shaved together this morning—my grandfather, my father, and I—smiling at one another in the mirror of memory. I dragged the razor through the foam, up under my chin; then looked down to rinse away three days’ stubble. “You missed … Continue reading

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“Ghosts”

  My life is haunted. In dreams come arms that held me Eyes that searched my face Lips that spoke of love and life and longing. Around me swirl eddies of memory… Life lived as more than one Promises found … Continue reading

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“I See You”

I think the first time was very brief. The fall killed me soon after. Rushing in at the huge, hairy beast, trying to goad him over the killing cliff, I dodged a flailing trunk and myself went over the edge … Continue reading

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“Home Again”

After so much loss in 2013, memories make the new year and the continued chronicles of my life a parade of daily reminiscences.  Sometimes I find myself laughing through my tears.  I have been fortunate in my misfortunes because the … Continue reading

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“What Goes Around…”

A week ago I spent a fine spring morning skiing Breckenridge. It was sunny and warm, and I was already tired and a bit sore from hitting the slopes pretty hard the day before at Keystone. By noon on Friday … Continue reading

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“An Ocean of Wonder”

I was such a good-looking little boy (no way I’m posting a picture!). Just imagine: a skinny eight or nine years old, hair buzzed to sandpaper bristles—thanks, Dad—glasses with lenses so thick that I had perpetual bruises on the bridge … Continue reading

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“Clear Thinking”

When I graduated from college, I had it in my head that I wanted a motorcycle. I’d had one for a short time during my freshman summer, but I wasn’t making any money and had to give it up. In … Continue reading

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