Mom’s Transforming Desk
Mom & Dad had this neat desk. I’m not sure how they acquired it–probably a wedding present–but it’s been part of our lives for as long as any of us “kids” remember.
Archive for the 'Yarns and Tales' Category
Stories. All are from life. Some have been adapted or adjusted a bit.
Filed under
Family Mirror
Life's Stories
Yarns and Tales
Posted on
August 25th 2005
Varsity
Mom & Dad were about to leave on vacation–New Orleans, I think–when Mom handed me a couple twenties and said I should get my bike working while they were gone. Not sure what provoked the assignment, but it’s fair to say it changed my life….
Filed under
Bike Trails
Life's Stories
Yarns and Tales
Posted on
April 10th 2005
Akers Memories
What I think the portrait misses is that Owen’s heavy workload was fairly seamless; I had contacts with him in several of his roles and he was always the same person, working on the same causes, and finding reinforcement from his friends and colleagues as he moved from meeting to meeting. A strenuous life, yes, and not everyone loved Owen Akers, but many did.
Filed under
History Scrapbook
Life's Stories
Politickin'
Yarns and Tales
Posted on
November 15th 2004
McNair
But boy he looked fine while he failed. Good days and bad, the man was impeccable, in a BCT sort of way. His fatigues were always starched, his boots always had a perfect shine, his comportment was beyond reproach. Everything was done with a flair. Even the failures were stylish.
Filed under
Veteran Testimony
Yarns and Tales
Posted on
September 7th 2004
Sales Pitch
Sunday afternoon, fifteen years or so ago….
Filed under Yarns and Tales Posted on July 25th 2004
Seed and Grain
For over a century, this grain elevator was the main reason for Mulliken. This railside complex was the farming community’s touchpoint with the larger world. They’d come to buy seed before planting, then return to sell the grain they’d grown from the seed. This routine made for an interesting, seasonal parade of vehicles on Potter Street. July’s winter wheat harvest was a particularly busy time; trucks, tractors, and trailors would line Main Street day and night as the farmers and staff would struggle to get the grain from truck to hopper.
Filed under
Mitten State
Picture Show
Yarns and Tales
Posted on
June 18th 2004
Refuge in Tucson
There was a bookstore/candle shop/concert space just off the campus. The place doubled as a coffeehouse (only on weekends, I think), and the house band was a folky quartet–a girl singer, her husband on guitar and harmony, a bassist (I think), and a drummer. here was a bookstore/candle shop/concert space just off the campus. The place doubled as a coffeehouse (only on weekends, I think), and the house band was a folky quartet–a girl singer, her husband on guitar and harmony, a bassist (I think), and a drummer. It was the first time I’d found a drummer in a folk group, and the first time I’d ever seen a girl play a conventional drum kit. The group’s repertoire was pretty standard for a coffeehouse band, except they had an unaccountable affection for Tim Buckley. For me, the attraction (besides the drummer) was the opportunity to hear “my” music.
Filed under
Musicks
Veteran Testimony
Yarns and Tales
Posted on
June 10th 2004
Flying into Huachuca
Sunrise, and we discovered the Huachuca Mountains, like an unexpected island in the plains. Never–never–have I been so astonished by the morning.
Filed under
Veteran Testimony
Yarns and Tales
Posted on
June 9th 2004
Hacking the Azalea Quince
When Dad died, someone gave Mom an Azalea to honor his memory. Mom planted it, tended it, cared for it; things didn’t work out. After a couple years of fighting for and with the plant, it was still just a twig in the yard. Mom offered it to me; hoping I’d have better luck.
Filed under
Life's Stories
Yarns and Tales
Posted on
June 5th 2004
Dale Warland Singers
It was probably our second rehearsal. We’d stumbled badly on a run-through, and Warland was isolating the technical problems. We worked on the rhythms for a time, added the words when he was confident we’d mastered the counts, and finally fit the music to the section. I’d forgotten I’d sung this at Mac. But I’d not forgotten Dale’s teaching methods.
Filed under
Dear Old Macalester
Life's Stories
Musicks
Yarns and Tales
Posted on
May 31st 2004
