My mother is where I got my moral bearings. It wasn’t complicated but remains challenging in various ways. She read me The Little Match Girl on Christmas Eve and guided me consistently to the Sermon on the Mount. She also turned me on to Kit Carson, although I later learned of complexities there. At any …
Cowboy and I haven’t been able to see Sara for a couple of days. You know, all that stay-at-home and social distancing stuff. But we’ve gotten postcards. Here she is watching a sea lion on Animal Planet, a favorite TV show, with Rescue Dad Mike. And here she is all bundled up by Rescue Mom …
I have been thinking about this photo, too, on this Father’s Day, a family photo from the 1930s. It’s my father, Bob Robertson, and his father, Homer W. Robertson, helping my father’s older sister, Marcella Jean, who suffered from cerebral palsy. Marcella couldn’t walk on her own and had trouble speaking, but her mind and …
The weather technicians say it is the start of the monsoon, but I still balk at the New Mexico use of the term. It works when I’m reading Joseph Conrad, but it seems out of place as I gaze at the Pajarito Plateau. Against the grain of my newspaper training, reluctantly using two words instead …
dream ranch 