1,426 Words. 6 Minute Read.

I prefer taking the scenic route – always. It doesn’t matter if I’m in New Orleans, Carmel, or simply driving to the local library. You can bank on me finding every piece of interesting architecture and historical landmark and visiting them, to the exclusion of everything else. I can’t help it. I truly can’t. There’s a skipper in my brain whose call sign is Captain Disaster. He’s an excursionist who despises maps, itineraries, and clocks. He has full control of my faculties and operates with a broken compass.

718 Words. 3 Minute Read.

Wind darts through the West Village like two kids playing tag, here one second and gone the next. But its presence adds a layer of warmth to a crisp Manhattan evening.

Women are bundled up in wool jackets, smart-looking gloves, and scarves of varying lengths to keep their pale winter necks warm.

957 Words. 4 Minute Read.

At some point, I’d open up a book and read until the sun started setting, with a nap here and there. Around five o’clock, the mountain skies turned into a panoramic canvas of violet, peach tones, and swaths of butterscotch.

877 Words. 3 Minute Read.

“Post-COVID” New York does not look like “Pre-COVID” New York. There just aren’t as many people. That said, it’s still packed with humans. And not just your run-of-the-mill humans, but that self-absorbed species that parachutes in during the holidays to take hundreds of selfies between West 48th and 51st, undoubtedly scrutinizing each photo for double chins and lazy eyes in a futile attempt to show their “followers” - all 317 of them - how fabulous their lives are.

518 Words. 2 Minute Read.

After supper, everyone who wasn’t on the night shift would head back to our cabins on the Snake River to listen to music, play volleyball, smoke pot, get naked in the hot springs, shoot pool at the employee tavern, or knock out whistle pigs with our fly rods.