Jacks Fork, Cork and Bird

Cork is the floater. I don’t know the bird’s name.

The Road Home

A road might be beautiful. Or trashy. Or homely. But always, it’s the way home for somebody.

So I set out to feel every crack in Missouri’s pavement. As with all stories – and symphonies and carnal acts – it was an uneven ride. Although a dozen friends and a handful of reporters rode with me on … Read More

I drove all the roads

The map called out the names; I traced the stories. Every fold in the Ozarks, every bend in the rivers, every drive down the main drag in 700 towns reminded me that even as my map sets the stage, it … Read More

A Chimney Sweep’s View of the Jacks Fork

Rarified air. Pristine water. The Jacks Fork welcomes Spring.

Hollow Victories

Strange occurrence. I picked all 16 first round matchups correctly yesterday. Yep, Yale and Little Rock, too. It won’t last, and it doesn’t matter, since I entered no contests. But it’s my biggest brush with success since a guy named … Read More