The Skipper of the aging Skyfish Space Wagon “Crow”, was a veteran of one of the last attempts at quelling the attacks on commercial star haulers, like Crow. Amply tattooed, but sporting only one ring in each of his three ears; he had been dubbed “Uncle Filthy” by space pirates, a long time ago. Only… Continue reading The Future of Space
This is an open letter to Margaret, who was my Wife for 42 years; my son Neal, my son Brian; my now deceased sister Rita, my brothers Lee and Greg; my little sister Debbie. This is to address those whose lives I was once a part of, but no longer am. I cannot go back… Continue reading Forgive Me, I’m So Sorry!
Never spit to windward. Flattery will get you anything, but; if you slice it too thick, it is baloney; slice it too thin, it is blarney. Don’t ram, jam it, damnit! Use a gentle touch! When you get up sooner than you wish; it is like a pig’s tail; IT’S TWIRLY! …to be continued according… Continue reading Mom Said
I was first introduced to Gabe by Gus Stager. Gabe was Gus’ dog and favorite friend, and his constant companion. Gus’ is 95 or better at this writing. And so it was that his daughter Ann Raab needed a little help with him; as he has dementia, but is otherwise healthy. In return for… Continue reading Gabe, a Best Friend’s Dog
When I realized I was married and would have to support a family, I listened to what Dad had told me. He said son, ya’ better pick a career that is as depression-proof as possible, and something you can enjoy; because chances are you will have to work for the rest of your life! Trucking,… Continue reading About My Trucking, the Early Years
This is gonna’ be about me. It was when my trucking career came to an abrupt close that I discovered that the bedding from my bunk from the semi could fit in the fabled Civic! Then I discovered I could go almost anywhere and not need extensive camping equipment, or have to pay campground fees.… Continue reading Plotting a Bolder Course
Under a spreading oak tree, the village wordsmithe lived. She would spend her nights knee deep in pencil shavings, typewriter ribbons, crumpled sheets of legal size, thumb drives and spent ink cartridges. Late into the night sees her weaving sentence after sentence into what she hopes ultimately to be a cohesive and creative story that… Continue reading The Wordsmithe
So I have been reading a lot of stories by Clive Cussler. So many I can’t now remember what titles I have already read. Clive’s getting a breather because my Library has run out of them. Now I have re-discovered Ludlum, but his characters are so serious, where Cussler’s are really fun! And when Clive… Continue reading Ok, Ok. If I Wanna’ be a Writer, all I have to do; IS WRITE!!!
“Sentimental Longing or Wistful Affection fo the past”. Life under the Helicalyptus Trees. Oh. Was I five or seven when I realized that it was “Eucalyptus?” Well, there were Helicopters flying around them; or so it appeared to a 3 yr old. hence, Helicalyptus! Not far from the old lighter than air station at El… Continue reading Nostalgia?
It was a dark, moonless night right before midnight in Vance county, NC. Southbound on I-85. We were to pickup a load of bullets or some small stuff from a smaller manufacturer near Roxboro. The obvious route (big roads) would take us down near Durham, and then back up again. …hmm-mm. US 158 goes straight to Roxboro.… Continue reading Horses or Aliens?