“It is a tour de force, quite literally, as those tributaries rush heedlessly toward their ultimate conclusion. Part John McPhee, part Norman Maclean, part Joan Didion, majority Maggie.”–Joseph Mackin, Editor, 2paragraphs
It’s 3 am. I’m in a wetsuit, in my swimming pool, with a full-grown Blacktail doe deer, a ladder, and various pieces of deck furniture.
Thank you to the Nevada County Arts Council for featuring my story in their August Newsletter Q&A!
Amidst the current situation, a lot of people are talking and writing about their struggle to find meaning, a way to live through what appears to some like very possibly end times. In my search for strength, I frequently land on 1968.
The day after the accident, I volunteered to call the funeral parlor, to arrange for you to see her body.
The mortician replied (never before or since have I heard such stillness in a voice,) “That’s not a good idea.
As we watched our young children reverently scatter my mother’s fake ashes on the sand dunes surrounding the beach cabin, clutching the powdery mix in their small hands first to their hearts, and then releasing it, I knew that someday I might have to tell them what happened to the real ashes.
Every Thanksgiving, I think of Hercules. But not the Greek hero. My Hercules was a magnificent fifty pound Broad Breasted Bronze Turkey, the one and only turkey on the farm where I lived. Which created some problems.
I presented “The Cumberland Suite” at the Nevada Theatre in Nevada City, CA on October 18, 2013. Inspired by a journal written by my great-great-great grandmother, Priscilla Beall McKaig, it’s an American story, a personal history of the Civil War and its aftermath, told through song, music, and spoken word.
Much of the world is totally frigging insane, yet mysteriously remarkable and quite possibly magical things can still occur … which makes one believe in these more mystical higher powers
One little known fact about having horses, to non-horse people at least, is how much horse people enjoy doing nothing with their horses.
As some would have it, this may be the last day of this world. I must say I’ve enjoyed this world, and I’ll miss it, despite it’s many faults.
Now, anyone who knows the Beaucoup band knows that we tend to enjoy what we do for the most part … we have this thing about oysters, the raw kind … to be truthful, Murray, Luke & I were the oyster devotees. Randy just thought we were crazy to eat them.
On a Friday evening in early September, love and romance flowed as freely as the beer and whiskey at a pub in San Francisco, California, known as the Plough and Stars.