It is a question we’ve all been asked at least once at some point in our childhood. And the answer, at least for me, would change depending on the time and place or the frame of mind I was in. I can remember most of the answers I gave and the reasons behind them for
I sit and look out my back window into the yard behind my house. It is large and full of trees; a combination of fir and pine and aspen. On this day, early in the morning, it is cold and fog is moving in. The white/grey translucent mist sneaks its way into the yard. It
This site's primary function in nostalgia. Oh sure, I have grandiose notions of somehow being relevant and cutting edge and occasionally making what I sometimes refer to as "a point." But if I'm truly honest the majority of what I write is nostalgia pure and simple. I write creative memoir which is just a way
