Tag: A Jar of Water

Long, long ago and far away…another place, a different time

Jennie and I just got back from a four-day visit with friends in Santa Fe, New Mexico. We stayed in the Las Campañas area, home of one of the three couples that made up our traveling group. It was a beautiful place on the high mesa, populated by piñon pines and surrounded by the Jémez and Sangre de Cristo mountain ranges. The sunsets were otherworldly, intensified by thunderheads and the occasional lightning strikes. The day temperatures fluctuated from the mid-seventies to the high eighties—perfect weather for the seven-thousand-foot elevation.…

The most influential person in your life

Aunt Dotsie was a superlative artist. She created hundreds of beautiful pieces—landscapes, portraits, still lifes, water scenes, and a host of other subjects. She photographed her work and kept the images in a big binder. She had the idea to write poems to go along with her paintings and then publish them in book form.

However, the words did not come easily.

So she asked me to write poems for her.…

For all who wander are not lost

In the past few weeks, Jennie and I have taken a couple of road trips relating to my historical novel, Five Hundred Moons. These were short, two-day excursions—just long enough to feel rejuvenated and offer some relief from our daily routine.
 
Our first getaway was to the small valley town of Colusa……

Winning isn’t everything, but it sure feels good

Sixty-six years ago, in 1957, the 49ers played the Detroit Lions in an NFL playoff game at Kezar Stadium. My father, uncle, and two other prune ranchers from South San Jose had season tickets, and they were all looking forward to attending the game. As luck would have it, my dad became ill a couple days prior and told my uncle to take his son……

Life, Strange Times, & Redemption on a Sea of Change

A young man walked into the store and asked to speak privately to the owner. He seemed nonthreatening, so I invited him into the office and offered him a seat. He didn’t sit down but instead reached into his pocket and pulled out a $100 bill…

Can a father be his son’s role model?

Recently, I had occasion to wear an old camelhair coat to a memorial service. The coat previously belonged to my father. It’s warm, still stylish, and fits me well. While putting it on, I reached into the inner pocket and felt a folded piece of paper….…

Are you “wowed” when you watch a sunset?

Just before the sun dipped into the western horizon, a golden aperture appeared near the mouth of the Pajaro River, a bright orange reflection from a glass window, angled just right as to shine brightly into our eyes. The occurrence brought to mind the green light that appears in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby…

Home is where your head is…

I talked of growing up in Capitola and my family’s history in the area, realizing, within sight, I could point out several places that sparked childhood memories. …

Musing of a poet on the rim of the world

I recently submitted a poem to the Morton Marcus Poetry Contest…I did not win the poetry contest—however, I did get an email from the sponsor, Catamaran Literary Reader, informing me that they were “releasing” my poem back to me. (I hadn’t realized they were holding my work captive, but I felt a strange sense of comfort upon its return, like getting your coat back from the hat-check counter on a dark and stormy night!)…