Stories

The time had come to start thinking realistically about my future. I had been looking for a break since I became a musical gypsy after graduation. Where, I wondered, was home. Toronto, Cleveland, Greenwich Village? The folk clubs were starting … Read More

As I continued my tour of coffee houses, folk music was everywhere. The Kingston Trio, Peter Paul and Mary, and The Limelighters were all having hit records. Word would travel the folk circuit that this friend or that was putting … Read More

This is the place where writing gets difficult. Telling my story without being perceived as a “name-dropper” is not an easy task. As I have written before, it was a time everybody was getting to know everybody else. And some … Read More

I’ve never written a “series” piece before but this story takes place in the time between the 1950s and the 2000s, so it is going to take more than a one-week post to tell it. Here goes. It’s a story … Read More

Baking is something that rarely occurs at our house. Neither Jan nor I find ourselves to be particularly good at it. Cupcakes, cookies, and all that stuff we were told our mothers made for us just doesn’t happen here. I’m … Read More

Here come the machines. Marc hurried into the house to tell me there were people marking our trees. “Here we go again,” I  thought to myself. Time to plead with the power company not to cut a 30-foot path through … Read More

How it all began I came across some old photos that brought back old memories that I would like to share. Brewer and Shipley had been doing a show at a long since forgotten bar in Denver. For some unknown reason, … Read More

In the afternoon the sun shines in the glass door that separates the deck from the master bedroom. That beautiful environment is where I have always loved writing. Burn one and start playing. It doesn’t really matter what. Just play. … Read More

Trapped. My wife and I have been locked in our house since April. In case you haven’t heard there is a bug out there. A really nasty fellow that seems to be taking over the whole world. It sure has turned … Read More

I can still hear the squeaky sound of the hand pump in my grandmother’s kitchen as she filled the pot for boiling the cabbage. Then would come poking the old wood cookstove to get the fire just right. Cabbage seems to … Read More