The ride.

Just the other day, my art major middle daughter told me that I’m a snob and should learn to appreciate all degrees of art: the great and the not-so-great. Apparently, I’ve been a little too vocal in my get-off-my-lawn approach to the so-so arts for her taste. I think she just likes supporting her fellow art students. I think they create more bad art than good (not her, of course, she’s a master). But she does have a point; I like to be inspired. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all f

“You can’t reach for anything new if your hands are still full of yesterday’s junk.” ~ Louise Smith In our 20s, my wife and I were young and poor, scraping by with big dreams and a tiny budget. We had just enough in our financial plan for one car, not two. Then, out of the blue, a guy I knew was selling his 1978 Yamaha 650 motorcycle for a really great price. It was sleek and black,  whispering tempted freedom to my adventurer heart and low-priced kindness to my bank account.

My earliest memories of discovering the world of books trace back to third grade and the school library at Northwest Elementary School in Dodge City, Kansas. Yes, that Dodge City, with Boot Hill and Miss Kitty and the enduring Wild West charm. If you ever find yourself wandering southwestern Kansas (unlikely, but hear me out), the town’s legendary spirit still lingers, a genuine slice of Americana worth a visit.   Even now, if I close my eyes, I see that little library, its s