Happy Paternal Unit Day, Papa
As a new paternal unit, I pondered what I wanted to be called by our children. For some reason, I […]
As a new paternal unit, I pondered what I wanted to be called by our children. For some reason, I […]
I’m on a bus in northern Russia. Our small group consisted of my future mother-in-law, a friend named George, and
I ran across this little popcorn tree a few days ago. As strange as this may sound, I miss them.
A Kawasaki 900. It was probably a 1988 or 1989 model. I don’t remember, but it was a beautiful bike.
I’m sitting in a barbershop in Northwest Arkansas probably 15 years ago when the obligatory barber conversation started: Me: “Just
As a Trial Defense Attorney for the Army Reserve, I attended my share of conferences. This one was in Portland.
It’s around noon on a Sunday. I’m 14 years old, sitting in my dad’s Chevrolet work truck, which (and I
Taylorsville, Mississippi: It’s a tiny place in South Mississippi. A guy in a blue Chevrolet pick-up truck drives past me,
I was nine years old the first time I quit. The reason that I left Little League football was not
“Mom, Mom. He sounds just like John Wayne!” Charlene, a girl from high school with whom I was visiting, enthusiastically