Sat, 30 Jul 2016, 06:10 PM (-06:00)
The father and mother of fallen American soldier Homayoun Khan stood on the stage at the Democratic convention as the week drew to a close. The father, Khizr Khan, spoke of Donald Trump: “He vows to build walls and ban us from this country.” He paused, the supportive crowd grumbled and booed.
“Donald Trump,” he said, rhetorically addressing the man as he held up his index finger to accentuate his words. “You are asking Americans to trust you with their future. Let me ask you, have you even read the United States Constitution?”
As the crowd erupted in cheers, he reached into his suit coat an pulled out a small dark blue pamphlet.
“I will gladly,” he said, holding it up into the air. “I will gladly lend you my copy.”
His voice wavered. And the crowd went wild.
Sat, 30 Jul 2016, 03:29 PM (-06:00)
You don’t have to dig very deeply to discover one of the fundamental flaws of my personality. Ask anyone I work with. Ask my fair and industrious wife or my faithful son. Heck, ask anyone in my family. Sometimes I tend to babble on. This can be a particular problem when it comes to … well, anything.
As evidence, I submit
Or maybe we were just pulling your leg.
You decide!
Fri, 29 Jul 2016, 09:16 PM (-06:00)
It’s not hard to imagine returning to this place once in a while, is it?
Thu, 28 Jul 2016, 09:05 PM (-06:00)
It was something my grandfather said when he crossed the state line. He’d roll down the windows at the border. He’d breathe deeply. And then he’d say, “Smell them air!”
Breathe deeply now with me, and smell them air!
Thu, 28 Jul 2016, 08:50 PM (-06:00)
Central Illinois abstract
Central Illinois concrete
Wed, 27 Jul 2016, 09:32 PM (-06:00)
We gathered at this place in the woods, you see.
Mon, 25 Jul 2016, 08:38 PM (-06:00)
“Smell them air,” I said as we crossed into Michigan.
Ben was behind the wheel. Trudy was in the backseat. I was in front snapping pictures of the lowering sun and the shadow of our car reaching out on the green growing beside the road as we raced that final stretch north. North to the lake.
“Will you be here for dinner?” my brother texted. “What is your ETA.”
“Definitely not there by dinner,” I said.
“But what’s your ETA?”
“We’re hoping to make sunset, but we’ll probably miss it. Expect us dusk-ish.”
At 0-dusk-30, Ben turned the car onto that two-rut drive that we’ve driven down so many times.
“That’s our yellow gate,” he said. A gate that he and his cousins painted a few years ago as the mosquitos waged a determined campaign agains them.
We drove down that drive thru the forest. Drove toward the lake. Arrived to the hooting and hollering of those who were already there. We hooted together. We hugged. And we walked down to the lake, which the iPhone captured in good enough fashion that I thought I might share it with you.
Mon, 11 Jul 2016, 08:37 PM (-06:00)
Sun, 10 Jul 2016, 07:57 PM (-06:00)
They say we live in a simulation. Or that we could. Or might. To be honest, I don’t know what the line of reasoning is, and I don’t particularly care. I’ve got things to do.
But you’ve got to admit, that if you were in a simulation and if you were British, this might be a good time to restart the simulation from the checkpoint just before that Brexit vote.
What a bunch of fools, he says. The would never happen here, he says, glancing around nervously.
Mon, 4 Jul 2016, 08:32 PM (-06:00)
Late in the afternoon. The sun is beginning to disappear behind the canyon walls. But the sky is still light and blue. And the air is still hot.
We go down to the creek as all the summer’s day revelers are hiking out. We sit in the cool water. We listen to it flow.
There’s wildlife down there.
And signs of civilization, too.
