Seeing Old Friends… Fifty Years On! What do you say to that old friend you have not seen in half a century? What do you say to an entire roomful of such friends? These questions are only hypothetical if you plan to skip your 50-year high school reunion. If, on the other hand, you decide…
A few weeks ago, a group of young fellows let me tag along with them on a dandy little adventure up Spring City Canyon. We drove about three quarters of the way to the top, parked the truck, located the nearby trailhead, and traipsed our merry way along an undulating path that ushered us up to a plank covered spillway.
Should you happen to be looking for me, and if it’s a Monday, you will not likely find me. Even if you were able to somehow track me by the signal emanating from the cellphone in my pocket, it will still be a daunting proposition. On Mondays, you see, I am typically somewhere up in yonder hills.
So many of us seem to have our own, respective morning ritual: a woman who writes ‘morning pages’ in her journal; another woman who does morning yoga; a fellow who always starts his day with meditation; others who feel their day goes better if they begin it with a prayer of supplication; others who begin with a brisk jog or walk; or, my wife, who likes to take a morning turn or two around her garden just to “See how everything is coming along.”
Here comes July, our hottest and driest month of the year (oof!). But it’s also the month that serves up a double dose of local festivities since July includes both Independence Day on July 4 and our state Pioneer Day on July 24.
“They sure don’t make things like they used to!” Every kid, everywhere, has heard a parent or grandparent utter this lament, and usually accompanied by a disgruntled shake of the head. I heard some version of this exclamation many times during my formative years. And so, it was with a fond and a wistful recollection…
My wife and I have a newfound joy: Riding our bikes side-by-side from Spring City to Mt. Pleasant, along a lovely new pathway. I’ve been making that same short trip via bicycle since we moved here, 12 years ago, pedaling up S.R. 117, which was fine, if a bit unnerving, having cars and trucks go…
It’s been decades now, but the memory is still as vivid as if it happened yesterday… The least likely kid the whole 8th Grade metal shop class was awarded the only perfect score for the most challenging assignment of the semester—a metal riveting hammer; eight inches in length with a four inch handle and a…
However it happens, we all tend to fall into our own comfortable and familiar routines over time. And are these routines the result of any conscious planning or deliberation? Not typically; certainly not in my case. They just tend to gradually develop, and before I’ve even realized it, I have some new thing in my…
Four days were circled on the calendar with a simple notation: “Moab Trip”; a planned getaway with 30 local teenagers along for the fun. Nothing extraordinary, really: a scenic drive down to Moab, some hiking around that red rock wonderment; some fishing and general falderal in the surrounding hills; then a couple stops at places…
Ever since moving to Spring City (nearly nine years ago), I have heard fanciful tales of a waterfall up our nearby canyon. And not some dribbling, piddling little thing that’s hardly worth a mention, but a roaring, honest-to-goodness fall that would take your breath away if you were to behold its majesty. So many neighbors…
A wistful parting from two faithful old friends It is time. Past time, in fact. These old trail shoes have been with me for over three years now, and showing their age—split out at the sides, laces knotted in multiple places, smooth rubber on the soles where you’d expect to find sturdy tread, and no…
This month’s article will be the first of a two-part series. After pondering the word “empathy” and to what extent this word is useful in our home, schools, community and personal lives, I have wondered if more people understood empathy and applied it to relationships with others, if there would be less anger, arguing, fighting,…
My Slavish Devotion to a Fitness App My wristwatch—the same one I’ve worn for the past 30 years—tells me exactly two things: time and date. It doesn’t do anything else. And I have stuck with this trusty old timepiece, while friends and relatives have all made the jump to digital devices (so-called “smart…
A Group of Beginning Guitar Students at Their Very First Jam I recently found myself standing in front of a group of fresh-faced young guitar students at the community recreation center in Mount Pleasant, the leather strap of my banjo slung over a shoulder, and plucking out the typical ‘four potato’ intro that kicks…