New Life

Alive and moving inside my daughter’s body, my new grandchild is simply waiting to make her debut. She’s a miracle, the very best kind.              “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” –Psalm 139:13-16 NIV             I press my hand to Jen’s full-term belly and...

Dropping Like Flies

At age fifty, I decided sixty was my limit. Why grow old and face a decaying body if you can die young? Reason enough to jump out of an airplane just before the big 6-0. But wouldn’t you know it—I survived. Now, I’m coming up on seventy. Yes, my body is deteriorating, but it’s more about the deaths happening around me that make me consider my mortality, the loss of people within the periphery of my life. Landy, age 40; JC, age 98; Gary, age 75; Tim, age 49; Geneva, age 88. They’re dropping like flies, life expectancy not always a predictor of longevity. Of course, there’s no comparison to the tremendous loss of life in war zones around the world. But these deaths, all within a few weeks, impact me personally, making me aware that life is, indeed, fleeting. Why, I...

On the Fence

One of my stories is up again at

Where’s the Bacon?

When I ordered the “Big Beef Bacon Cheese Melt” from the menu at a local café, I assumed I was in for a big juicy burger topped with cheese and crispy bacon. Was I ever wrong. There wasn’t a burger at all—just thin strips of beef along with the cheese and tomato. Beef bacon. Whoever heard of such? I admit the abomination called turkey bacon has been around a good while. But everyone knows it’s not legitimate bacon. Bacon comes from a pig, folks. And when properly cooked, it’s thin, crispy, and oh so yummy. That turkey stuff should just be called turkey strips because that’s really all it is. But beef bacon? It was tough, hard to bite through, and had random strings of fat that weren’t crispy at all. Never in a million years could it be called bacon. You can be...

Oh, Deer

I recorded a Field Note that was aired on Montana Public Radio. Here’s the link: Oh, Deer


Bub’s not really his name. My daughter named him Tristan when she adopted the tiny kitten left in a cardboard box outside of a veterinarian office. He lived with Jen in her Nashville apartment for a year but came with her when she moved back home. It was a difficult adjustment for all of us. We had an older cat, Daisy, and a huge dog, Prince, who reigned in our home. Tristan stuck close to Jen until a year later when she moved across country. That’s when he homed in on me. He had to keep his distance, though, sleeping at the foot of my bed, far from Daisy’s place on my pillow. That is, when Prince would allow him to pass through my bedroom door. Tristan was low man on the totem pole. And how did he get the name Bub? Jen referred to him as Bub when...

Stories of Life

One of my stories has been included in the anthology Bones & Blue Eyes and Other Stories of Life, now available online at