Selected Stories

My Grandmother, my father’s mother, was from Tennessee, and had all the earthiness of a hillbilly with a kindness and twinkle built in.  I didn’t see her often, since we lived in Montana and the trip to Tennessee took four days of hard driving, but we made the most of...

We were up before dawn and, still sleepy, went down to the mess hall for breakfast with the Forest Service logging crew.  Everything you’ve heard about loggers’ breakfasts is true.  We had platters of eggs with pools of butter, bacon, sausages, and pancakes in stacks...

I don’t remember everything about the summers of my childhood, but I do remember some wonderful highlights. Like the pollywog pond… “Hey Carol! Let’s go ride our bikes to the pollywog pond!” Carol was my sister, older by more than two years – a big kid, but my best...