For the last few months, I’ve been quietly purchasing trading cards for a sport I never watch. Here’s a picture: One football player specifically peaked my interest. They call him “Baby Brady.” Drake Maye is…
For the last few months, I’ve been quietly purchasing trading cards for a sport I never watch. Here’s a picture: One football player specifically peaked my interest. They call him “Baby Brady.” Drake Maye is…
His “look” defined the 1980s. The junk wax baseball card era was defined by getting a Dennis Eckersley card in some form or another. He was a baseball fan-favorite. Case in point: on December 26th,…
For the first time in my life I stepped out of my personality before catching myself. I stayed up late into the night listening to sports commentary podcasts. Baseball analysis talk shows. Then I came…
I was enjoying the rare quiet hours of darkness before sunlight crested over the horizon from the east this morning. That’s when the lights appeared… I’ve never seen StarLink satellites before. Only pictures. But real…
Call me sentimental. Call me corny. I don’t care. I give credit where it’s due. In this case: it’s to God. I make an intentional effort to recognize rainbows every chance I get. I share…
Charles Bukowski described writing as photography: “In my work, as a writer, I only photograph, in words, what I see.” Everyone wants depth. Context. Quick fixes. Someone to tell them what’s what. I just want…
You’re not judged by mere flesh, but by the fire in your belly. Hemingway’s true genius? Blatantly withholding conclusions and implying his worldview without saying it outright. Why say what should be obvious? He’s helping…
EDITOR’S NOTE: AI says this article comes off too strong. Good. That’s the way John Ford would like it. Tough as nails. In his lifetime, Ford was was accused of embellishing his accomplishments. As if…
Lucky me. I grew up before great books died. Now machines think. No more real intelligence. It’s artificial now. A cheap imitation. The more words you have, the less they’re worth. Inflation. Words can’t escape…
Birds chirping. Creek water flowing. Walking stick. I hiked Fairfield Bay’s trails. Saw nature for real. Smelled the tree leaves – and my own sweat. Not a book in sight. As Indiana Jones told his…