Category: The Grab Bag

I am back.  I have officially returned to base.  I did not have the opportunity to dash off as many dispatches as I had hoped, due to various time constraints, a shaky wi-fi connection, and general end of the day fatigue.  I did not repeat the Jameson’s mistake, believe me, because the following morning I ...

It is 2117 hours and I have finally been able to connect my wi-fi signal to the Ajo La Siesta Motel.  I’m in my room, where someone has punched out the on-off button for the air conditioner and the man who handed me my key, and led me on a circuitous route through the dark ...

I’ll cross the LOD sometime tomorrow morning, flying from Redmond to Portland, then catching another flight to Phoenix, where I’ll meet up with the rest of the Warfighter Outfitters bunch who are gathering for a week in the Sonoran Desert.  So far as I can tell, they are coming from across the nation.  Chicago, Austin, ...

I had the opportunity to interview a couple of fascinating people last week, for the up-coming Sisters Oregon Guide.  One of them was Kirk Metzger, a world-class kayaker who counts numerous solos of the Colorado River amongst his accomplishments, but who also spent 34 years working for the Forest Service in almost every conceivable capacity. ...

*This column originally appeared in The Nugget News, 3.8.2016 I’m a movie buff, all-in, but while I love the experience of a good film—in a theater, particularly one as comfortable and inviting as our own Sisters Movie House—I confess that I have become increasingly tired of the people making them. The yearly, over-anticipated, under-compelling pomp ...

I’m going to warn you ahead of time.  This post, and Gunny Walgren’s speech, contain bad words.  A lot of them.  I don’t care.  I’m going to share it anyway, with adults, and for those of you who haven’t seen it, or can’t find a way to understand the fire, the camaraderie, the solace of ...

I spent most of Saturday in the barn, cleaning up, oiling leather, trying to hang a gambrel in the rafters on a pulley, and talking to Barnacles, the sole remaining barn cat.  I don’t know what happened to the other one.  He, or maybe it was a she, has vanished into the night. Maybe it ...

In an ancient incarnation I taught english composition to college freshmen and sophomores at Lassen College.  I had all kinds of theories about how to deliver the information, how to haze these kids into communicating information by means of pen and paper, and the mere thoughts in their head–and how to do it well.  I ...

Here I go again, down the road of melodrama and romantic subjects no one should write about, but I can’t help myself.  I’m in a rage.  I’m so damn mad I can’t even work up a spit.  See, friends, the suited, perfumed, airy, pencil-necks who rule the game of baseball from their ivory towers, that ...