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It was, I’d like to believe, at least something like this rendition–big choir, lots of folks on stage. I was a boy–kindergarten, first grade or
James Schaap
July 24, 2020
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It was, I’d like to believe, at least something like this rendition–big choir, lots of folks on stage. I was a boy–kindergarten, first grade or
He was a colleague, my boss, my editor and, for a long, long time, our neighbor and good, good friend. From just across the street,
The land out back is vacant, all flood plain. Nobody will build behind us, so we’ve got an acre of grass, native flowers, and Russian
[Two weeks ago, in a comment, David Stravers asked about men and women of conviction in America’s western saga. I responded with a few names
In his statement, [Tribal] Chairman Frazier cites the 1868 Ft. Laramie Treaty that says “no white person or persons shall be permitted to settle upon
I didn’t know her well, just enough to tip my hat maybe, if I’d ever worn one. Probably said “hi” is all. She lived on
When Sven Johnson, his wife and two children, left their native Norway, they spent the next eight weeks crossing the choleric Atlantic in a sailboat.
My granddaughter was, back then, just a little girl, third grade maybe, but one Sunday morning, I remember, she was already starting to wax nostalgic.
Years ago, when I was revising a novel, Romey’s Place, I didn’t know how it should end. What I knew when I’d started the major revision