Wounds. We all have them. Deep ones that we can’t seem to get over. Not really unexpected in a world of fallen people. Wounds that stick and never fully heal. Wounds that try to tell us something about us. The wounds may come from friends or family members or anyone that touches our world. They may come from our own bad decisions that shatter our lives (see last week’s post). And they arrive by chance. Life happens. Some heal with time, but many persist. And often, the closer the wounder, the deeper the wound. But…
Read More
image by Roland Peachie
A Decaying Past
I like old stuff. Always have. Dad’s aunt and uncle would escape the Utah winter and snow to stay in Santa Monica for several months each year, and I’d quietly listen to tales of much earlier frontier days. On the bike trips, old farms, barns, and houses entrance me. Two years ago we spent a few days in Deadwood, SD, where Wild Bill Hickok was killed, where Calamity Jane capered, and I was nearly in heaven. Last spring Sheila and I visited an old central California town. She headed for an antique store; I crossed the street to a hotel/bar about 120 years old. So when Roland Peachie…
Read More