May
15
We just passed a shrink-wrapped boat. What it’s doing in the middle of Nebraska, I have no idea. But there seems to be all manner of transport along this flat, gray, rainy Pony Express trail.
My daughter sits next to me napping on her “Hug this pillow until you can hug me” fluffiness, given to her by her new hubby. It’s sweet. Even though we’re traveling at a pretty steady clip, we’re not taking great pains as we drive across The Great Plains. Destination: Cheyenne, Wyoming and her next three years. Why oming? Her Air Force husband just re-upped for duty and she’s got a job working with older folks at the Veterans Administration. Her new life awaits her.Read More
May
13
This essay originally appeared in my first book, Spiritual Wanderer.
My life is a struggle to make sense of things — enormous things and things like, “There’s a bathroom on the right.”
I’m referring, of course, to the Credence Clearwater Revival lyrics, which don’t have anything to do with plumbing. The line that’s so often misquoted is really, “There’s a bad moon on the rise.”
May
04
So I’m hanging out, chatting with my wife and daughter after running some errands, having a salty snack — the usual slow afternoon things — when KABLOOEY, it hits me; I’ve outlived my father.
Apr
14
(First published 30 years ago)
I can’t really say why I went down to Haiti in the first place. A friend of mine, who lived there, wrote and suggested I make the journey to “see some places and faces that would fill a whole book.” As every egocentric photographer knows, that’s all you really need to hear. What a jerky reason to go.
Apr
13
Mar
09
You can credit the pills.
You can credit eight months of treatment.
You can credit the warm, moist Caribbean air and glorious sunshine.
Or, like me, you can also credit the Mayan Healing Ritual.
Feb
23










