I am retired. I like to write. I like to read. I live in Hood River, OR. I am married (47 years!) and have two grown sons, Noah and Isaac.
In December of 2002, an uninsured driver caused an accident that left my oldest son, Noah, paralyzed. He was 22. In the immediate aftermath, our grief knew no bounds. We searched for answers. But none existed. Our resolve hardened against the injury’s tyranny. We imagined fictitious recoveries. But these were just pantomimes of wishful thinking. … More Tender Mercies
Soon after the New Year, I walked the perimeter of a sandbar on the Columbia. It juts north from the Oregon shore in Hood River and is called “The Spit.” Kite board enthusiasts know it as the largest sandy launch site in the Mid-Columbia Basin. From March through October, surfers take off from here and … More Down by the Riverside
Last week, the first snow of winter arrived. All day, fine grains of powder squeezed through a sieve of cloud and fell like glitter on top of the fence posts and the shoulders of the shrubbery and filled the crevices between the tiles on the garden path. Above me, geese gabbled among themselves, heading south, blind and … More The University of Cancer
In early October, morning frosts gave way to blue skies and warm days. Autumn breezes moved among the limbs of maple, oak, and birch trees and their leaves dried and curled and changed color but held their grip on the boughs and refused to fall. Aided by this good weather, the virus I’d picked up … More Meditation for a Friend
My wife and I just returned from 10 days in New England. We entered Acadia National Park, in Maine, the afternoon prior to the government shutdown. There, we hiked to the summit of Cadillac Mountain and walked along the shores of Sand Beach and Jordan Pond. On the second day we followed the Great Meadow … More Leaf Litter, the ER, and Wobbling
The summer has been busy with family visits to Hood River. First, my wife’s youngest sister, Linda, arrived. She and her husband have government jobs overseas. They hope to eventually retire here, close to us. Their latest posting, however, is in Pakistan and a farewell peek at our new home seemed appropriate before departing. Then, … More A Busy Summer
Here, in Oregon, at our new home in town, Mourning Doves have my attention. Their baritone voices resonate from perches in nearby trees and from the tops of phone poles along the street. These birds are wonderful fliers. They are fast, able to climb and dodge rapidly as they move from spot to spot announcing … More Mourning Doves
“Our house is a very, very, very fine house. With two cats in the yard, Life used to be so hard …,” Crosby, Stills, and Nash Actually, there’s just one cat in the yard. At 16 pounds he has the heft of two, but Spanky, our tiger stripe rescue, prowls our new property alone. The … More Schrodinger’s Cat, Pandora’s Box, and a Pet Cat (Scan)
Baseball, hot dogs, and the American Flag symbolize our country’s national holiday. My sons will be together in California attending a game between the Giants and their arch rival, the Dodgers. My wife plans to do Hood River’s annual Fourth of July run/walk, a 7.2 mile event from mid-valley to downtown. Years ago, when I … More Flags
I have two remarkable sons. In previous posts, I wrote about them here and here. They do so much for my wife, Marilyn, and I. Noah, the oldest, contributes to our lives on the macro-level. He lives in the San Francisco Bay Area. There, he works as an associate attorney with the Environmental Protection Agency … More Fatherhood
Good Blood, Bad Blood 