I don’t recall what age I was exactly, and I’m not sure where the picture was taken (I also have the nagging suspicion that my Uncle Bill took it not my Dad) but this picture is about so much...
As a child, Saturday mornings were a special time for me. My father was a self employed owner/operator of a small printing company in the downtown area of my community. Shortly after sunrise every Saturday...
I was working on a book about how to landscape your house so that nothing in your yards would cause you or your family any allergies. My wife, Yvonne, had asthma and I was trying to do something useful....
The secret of my Christmas tree is simple. Each branch holds a special memory. The ornaments that fill the branches range from things I made as a child to things that were made by my children. The memories...
There isn’t any shame in the suburbs, unless you are ashamed. I grew up here and had no intention of returning. But, I have returned and if my little boy could speak he would have said, ‘Don’t go,...
This is my Dad and I in 1983 in Armstrong Woods in Northern California. We loved to walk in the redwood trees and whenever company visited we’d always take them to the nearby redwood forest to show...
I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I came to California to live with my Dad. At 16 I’d only met him once before, briefly at the age of seven or eight. A few ground rules were established...
I really had a rather pleasant day at work. I woke up, went to the gym, played with the cats and watched the birds and squirrels on my deck this morning. And it was a pleasant day, in spite of suddenly...
Kelly…She came when she wasn’t supposed to. The doctors said my mother couldn’t have any more children. Mum had had a lot of trouble having my brother and me, and they had given up hope...