If your going to be cooking you should have some tunes on. I’m not a music buff. Don’t know many bands. Trey and I weren’t buddies growing up and I never followed Ian Tyson around Alberta. But somewhere along the line I was introduced to The Gourds. My affinity grew during a couple year, Read More
Category: Roots, STS Bar and Grill Tags: cracking a cold one, Missoula, The Gourds
It’s a park now, mown green-space and graveled paths owned by the city of Williamsburg Virginia. But when I was a boy, not so much older than my son is now, “Government Property” was a tangle of tidewater forest and marshland where earthen battlements – remnants of the civil war – lay hidden in, Read More
One thousand two hundred and twenty-eight generations ago, my ancestor lay curled in a shallow depression scratched from the soil of a low African cave, listening to the night. Fear and Hunger waged a Great Battle in him. Fear was mighty and terrible in its strength, neither reasoned nor conceptual. It was real; a knowing in my ancestor,, Read More
Category: Con Kiddo, family, Fatherhood, Hunting, Just Plain Hunting, Roots Tags: Ancestor, Ancestry, Camping, Camping with Kids, club, Early humans, Early man, Family tree, Feral kids, Hunting, in the way back, origins, Paleolithic, Paleolithic diet, primitive hunting, primitve skills, spear, stalking
(or Rivanna, Part 2) I am a man now, thirty something, and far from innocent, but my desires at least have grown more comfortable, their barbs crimped by conflict and compromise. I bristle still at boundaries, but their effrontery is less personal and I’ve long since learned to circumvent the ones that I can’t, Read More
Category: Angling, family, Fatherhood, Roots Tags: adolesence, family, home, loss, Rivanna, Rivanna River