Across trains and bridges, rooftops and billboards, the graff writer purges his pent-up emotions. His tragic losses unravel in streams and clouds of colorful paint. The nozzle becomes a vehicle for his catharsis, and he might as well be cutting for the paint is a synthetic blood. All across...
Three days equals 72 hours, unless an ice storm knocks out your power and then three days equals 234 hours and you have to play CLUE for every single one of them. Because, umm, Parcheesi was not happening and the batteries to Operation were, of course, dead. Every few years a bad ice storm rolls...
In early December we had another ice storm that killed our electricity and put us out of the house for six days. Here are some photos I shot in Teresa’s garden at the start of the storm.
Back in July, I threw a carnival birthday party for my daughter Bridgette. We rented a dunk tank and a miniature pony for the kids to paint. Bridgy loved it all, but the dunk tank would have probably been enough! I underestimated how much the kids were going to like it and the poor pony got a...
A 1962 Ford Fairlane | 7.12.2015 | 13th and Broadway in Oklahoma City
I was 10-years-old and life unfolded like laundry on a line. We were sheets baked in the wind, our dreams heavy like wet, pilling blankets pinned to a wire. I was pulled taut between two poles, my mother, my father. Fastened in 15 different places — to shame and hope, secrets, and fear. But,...
The following is a guest post from Joelle Casteix, author of The Well-Armored Child: A Parent’s Guide to Preventing Sexual Abuse, due out September 15. I’ve written about childhood sexual assault many times on this blog, particularly as it relates to Generation X, so be sure to review the...
It’s a joy to share with you pictures of our daughter Bridgette’s First Communion. It was one of the best days of my life as we celebrated her receiving the wine and the bread and the gift of everlasting life. In keeping with tradition, the first grade moms at Bridgy’s...
At night in dreams he sees their souls rise Like dark geese into the Oklahoma skies Well this is a prayer for the souls of the departed –Springsteen Down an old dirt road in Okfuskee County is a gravel turn-out that bends in a half circle right by a stand of trees. Underneath them is a...
The fruits of your labors may be reaped two generations from now. Trust, even when you don’t see the results. –Fr. Henri Nouwen Every spring, wildflowers spill out across the rural routes of Eastern Oklahoma County. The roads Peebly, Luther, Dobbs, and my favorite, Pottawatomie, put on...
In 1974, our family moved from Los Angeles to Colorado Springs. Our new house was a yellow split-level on London Lane in Southboro. The house next door was bright blue and there lived the family Barlass. Peggy was the youngest of four kids and lucky for me, we were in the same grade. We became...
Sometimes, my work takes me to rural towns across Oklahoma. I love being on the road, traveling down the old state highways, thinking about how people in wide-open spaces live. I breathe better in these parts, even if I white knuckle it across narrow, two-lane bridges. Yesterday, I passed farms...
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Hello, Jill! It's so nice to receive a message from a majorette. No doubt, it was a grand experience for…
I was the majorette at my Catholic high school (William V. Fisher Catholic) in Central Ohio. Fall 1993-97! Loving these…
Thank you so much. This post was one of the hardest I ever wrote because the trip was difficult. I…