Garry Vorhees was my friend. We met when he married my aunt, Dorothy Rose. Garry was a good guy, an easy guy to like. I liked him because my dad liked him. I liked him because, when I was a kid, he made funny faces and made even funnier noises. I liked him because he would get my grandmother’s umbrella and “parachute” off her front porch. Her front porch was a real front porch! My grandfather... Continue reading
If only we had some ham we could have some ham and eggs if we had some eggs. If only frogs had wings, they wouldn’t bump their butts hopping. If only I’d called that company yesterday. If only I’d thought of that. If only I had saved more for my retirement. If only I’d prepared better for that interview. If only I’d remembered to say that. If only I hadn’t had that last drink. If only I... Continue reading
When I was 17, my dad was thinking of buying a new fishing boat. He collected a number of catalogs and studied them with a vengeance. I asked him which one he was going to buy, and he said he didn’t know yet because he didn’t know the price. I asked why the price wasn’t in the catalog. He said, “Since these are manufacturer’s catalogs, we aren’t privy to the prices.” “Why... Continue reading
I was talking with my wife this morning as I was driving to my first appointment. She was, very eloquently, making the case for going out to dinner this evening. Her “closing point” was that since I was going deer hunting this weekend that taking her out to dinner was the ‘least I could do.’ My response was (I believe) equally as eloquent. “Never let it be said that I didn’t do the least... Continue reading
Good writers borrow from other writers. Great writers steal outright. If you believe this, than I am a great writer. A friend sent this story to me a couple of days ago. I like stories. I especially like stories with a message. And since most of us like to make promises to ourselves this time of year, I couldn’t resist this one. Its late fall and the Indians on a remote reservation in South Dakota... Continue reading