Choose carefully where you sit… — The side walk was cracked and broken from life times of use. It was as though the local government decreed the old sidewalks would not get repaired. All throughout the ancient colonial town, the sidewalks presented a walker’s obstacle course. Not only the cracks and large, gaping fissures on the…

A cautionary note — Maybe I’m picking up on the global, collective angst compromising the diplomatic/political pressure seals throughout humanity, sensing the very delicate balance called life on this planet now under a genuine threat. I meant this piece to be completely free of any political inclinations, zero, zip. I feel politics would just…

Who might determine life's’ turns with any measure of certainty? — Bobby was eight years old. &&& My name is Bobby, and I was born in Columbia, Missouri. I love to ride my bike with my friends along the river with our fishing poles on a Saturday and Sunday. This week I’m visiting my Aunt Claire’s and Uncle Walters’ house in…

chance and life just around the corner. — He sat on his porch bench that morning. The breeze coming off his soy field was a godsend, not cold, not too warm, rather perfect. Caressing his face as though assuring him today would be different. Now later afternoon, once again at his porch with a glass of lemonade, the…

Sometimes, just sometimes… — Fred didn’t live in a cave, of course, but people close to him in that first period referred to his home as such. A hermit, or a loner, Fred at first always stayed as far away from the spotlight as possible. Or so it appeared. In fact, Fred wasn’t a…

One Day at a Time, Gems. — He’s sat at his favorite park bench for the past six months he’d been living in Antigua. After Grace, his wife of a lifetime, was taken from him because of cancer, some people close to him recommended Antigua. Antigua was on his wife’s to do list. As life will have…

Don’t ruin holy week… — Day before yesterday, Margaret, my wife’s best friend from her youth days arrived via auto mobile from Honduras with her thirty-year-old son Roberto. The story really starts almost twenty-eight years ago, shortly after meeting my future wife on a blind date in San Pedro Sula, Honduras. They posted me to…

Dreams can be a testing ground. — For countless years I’d had recurring dreams where I was alone inside a massive, wood house, we’re talking cathedral like big. Endless hallways, lots of repair needed and haunted to the hilt. Seriously haunted. If you’re at least a tiny bit like me, you know ghosts are real. Anyway, to…

Another human thing… — I’ve tried to correct the glitch my laptop has with no luck. Can’t get the margins to begin at their proper points. There’s an impossible sensation, borne from being human, trying to get the right nut to fit the proper bolt, that sweet human conundrum. So shall forget it and…