The Sad, Strange Case of the Missouri Waltz

You’ve heard it a thousand times. At Mizzou games. On TV. Radio. Most recently at Mizzou’s Cotton Bowl victory over Ohio State. The Mizzou band begins the familiar strains of the Missouri Waltz. Then the song morphs into a march … Read More

My hero

He made it a lifelong practice to demonstrate creative uses for things people normally throw in the garbage. He believed that nothing around the house should be discarded if it could be used.As such, George Washington Carver became America’s foremost … Read More

Spokes

Alone, none of them can turn the wheel. A village of spokes. Equal. Indistinguishable. Steady as a watch on a schooner. In turn, each spoke hangs from the rim and holds the wheel for a millisecond until the next spoke … Read More

Winter Camping Alone

If you wanted to hide from hit men or creditors, Lake Wappapello would do nicely. Isolated in rugged hills, wholly surrounded by the thick woods of Mark Twain National Forest, the lake stands apart from the crowd. Literally. The nearest … Read More

First Band on Party Cove

Millstone Lodge, as I remember it, is gone.  Too bad.  In its day, the lodge provided one of the hotspots that kept the Lake of the Ozarks steaming.  Of course, that’s a bygone era, before you could scarab from the … Read More

Tour Guide on the Rio Grande

In 1818, Boonslick, Missouri resident Lindsay Carson was killed by a falling tree. His widow, Rebecca Robinson, raised 15 children by herself. Their 11th child, a kid named Kit, was sent to work in a saddle shop in Franklin, Missouri, … Read More

Flower

Stopped in Albuquerque to pick up 400 pounds of floor tile. Passed Sandia Mountain and drove up to Santa Fe’s rarified air. At 7200 feet, we got a boost from a bowl of fiery green chile chicken soup. Then Cheryl … Read More

A Bench Back In Time

The one-two punch of Santa Fe’s rarified air (7200 ft elevation) and Canyon Road shopping kicked my ass. I spied a bench, only partially occupied by an old friend from back home. Tipped my cap to this bronzed bard. He … Read More

The Scents of Steinbeck

“Cannery Row in Monterey California is a poem, a stink, a grating noise, a quality of light, a tone, a habit, a nostalgia, a dream. Cannery Row is the gathered and scattered, tin and iron and rust and splintered wood, … Read More

Aruba dabba doo

The island has no stoplights. And nary a discouraging word about roundabouts. The people are too happy to bitch. Even the crabs are civil to the pelicans. And the iguanas know you want to feed them. The flamingos don’t worry … Read More