At McGulpin Point Lighthouse on the Straits of Mackinac, we unfolded layers of history surrounding not just the site but the docent on duty, Eric Klein, who has a passion for Great Lakes history.
Putting everyday life under the microscope is what writers do. From the mundane to the major, thoughts on life.
Living on Florida’s Space Coast, you’re either wowed by rocket launches or take them as a matter of course. I’m new enough to be wowed by living on the edge of space and being part of a family who worked on the space program.
Viewing Earth from 30,000 feet is a humbling experience, yet the miracle of air travel has become routine, a commodity.
No stronger sense of place shaped my life and my future than the setting of my childhood home. On our recent trip to the ALDHA Gathering, I walked the Appalachian Trail of my youth to seek out memories.
On an auspicious morning, the appearance of a pod of dolphins in the Indian River Lagoon brings comfort as daylight seeps into summer skies.
Driving US 301 north from Georgia into South Carolina for the first time in decades, I’m in shock at how a once-regular stop for my family, Allendale, has fallen into ruin.
An old friend of the family retired a few years ago. Like me, his career ended earlier than he had planned. Without a reason to stay in the area, he loaded up all his belongings in a trailer and in the back of his truck. He relocated and started a new life.
I walked away from Pittsburgh 12 years ago to shut the door on the most painful chapter of my life, losing my sister to an unbeatable cancer. A flood of memories haunts me on my return.
I spent this week on the road in the typical whirlwind of updating a guidebook. As I drove home, I reached a fork in the road, a decision point. And I took it. Yogi Berra would be proud.
Dealing with masses of files and papers? Coping with clutter means millions of micro-decisions. It’s that accumulata of life that gets in the way of living.
I dragged my feet for getting my baseline mammogram done, having heard horror stories of how it would hurt. Well, it didn’t. And Yo Gabba Gabba helped me through.
Others made “better” art than me, art that glowed with realism. I felt defeated. If I couldn’t make the art in my head come out on the canvas, what was the point?