During any year, we celebrate this weekend. We celebrate in our remembrance, but we do not confuse meaningful reflection with the absence of…
Memorial Day Weekend
Well, here we are. On the cusp. Don’t forget, this isn’t it. This is the cusp. This isn’t summer. This is a dress rehearsa…
May Flowers
For all of the moving I’ve done, and all of the land that I’ve called home, I have only owned one prized Oak tree. The trees that typically …
Memorial Day Weekend
To all of the soft people who complain about winter and whine about spring, you’ve made it. I mean, I’ve made it to, to this pla…
Lake Geneva Memorial Day Weekend
And away. We. Go. That’s best if read in the Joker’s voice, right before he ignites a bomb that has the power to destroy one th…
Mayfly
It’s that season again, and with that season, we’ll require a reminder that Mayflies cannot kill you. They can’t give you …
Memorial Day Weekend
The man in front of me wore a checked shirt of blue and white. I wore a similar shirt, mine more white than blue, and no fewer than six othe…
Boxed and Burlap
I was in Chicago Wednesday. It was a crisp spring day, the sky and water in a matching shade. The city, when viewed from the approaching int…
Deadlines
I think about the days when I won’t write on this blog. I think about how admitting that is to somehow run afoul of the unwritten rule…