The Reindeer Keeper

Back in the days of my grandparents living on their farm, working the fields and raising a family, when November came around and it was an election year, they exercised their Right to Vote. At a certain time on that important day, my grandfather would come in from the barn to get cleaned up. My grandmother would finish preparing a full-course meal with all the trimmings. Election Day was treated with respect and a fine homemade dinner including dessert. When my grandparents were ready to go, they'd get in my grandfather's small Ford truck and head up the road to, what I remember them calling, the county barn, where they would vote.  A few times I was lucky enough to go with my Aunt Claire in her small Ford car to the county barn. I'd be able to go inside and wait for her. I loved doing that. Although I was very young, I was able to sense the importance of the moment; that being our right of freely expressing our opinions, hopes, fears and dreams for the country we love thro...

  EARLIER THIS HALLOWEEN MORNING I was out taking some pictures of the moon over the field when suddenly I could not believe my eyes. A Witch-a real Witch on a broom went flying by. I could hear her heckling and the broom whizzing and the wind drifting through the branches now bare. It's Halloween! Glorious and spooky Halloween with candy corn and lollipops and miniature candy bars and popcorn balls and candy apples and pumpkins carved, and wide-eyed kids full of anticipation out trick or treating. It's Halloween! Beautifully Glorious and So Very Spooky.

 A string of pearls has a few meanings to me.  My mother loved the Glenn Miller Orchestra. Particularly their song, "String of Pearls." Sometimes she'd put her Glenn Miller 33 RPM vinyl record in the record console when cleaning the house. When that song came on, she'd turn it up and dance around as she dusted or washed windows or changed the sheets on the beds. I now understand why she liked that song. I've grown to like it too. Whenever I hear it, I can't sit still. It gets me dancing around the house. My grandmother had a few pieces of jewelry that I fondly remember. Not because of monetary value. I have no clue what they were worth. But I do have a clue of their worth in the fact they were my grandmother's That makes them priceless to me. I remember on special occasions, like Thanksgiving or Christmas, she'd most always wear a swirly, silver pin. I can still see her pulling a turkey out of the oven. Although she wore a bib apron over her dress, tha...

I hardly ever mention my being a writer on this blog but with the release of my new book, "Velvet Snowflakes." I thought you might enjoy learning how it came to be. I often have people asking me where my ideas come from for storylines. My reply is always the same. Storylines are all around you. The trick is to recognize them. Acknowledge them and take the time to develop them. Besides time, it takes patience. Writing is akin to putting a puzzle together. Sometimes the pieces don't fit. Sometimes a character or a scene or a conversation need reworking. That's when you have to go back and redo those pieces until you, as the writer, feel they fit. The idea for my heartwarming story, "Velvet Snowflakes" developed during the dark days of Covid when we were on lockdown. I began thinking about the meaning of home and the places I'd called home. Most of my attention turned to the first place I called home. It sat along a lane. I lived in that clapboard home pain...

  I was hanging clothes out on the clothesline the other day when I noticed something moving in a field across the road. I couldn't figure out what it was, so I went inside the house for my phone and told Brian I'd be right back. As I crossed the road, I still couldn't figure out what it was until "it" moved. What I'd seen was the top of a hat. I discovered it was worn by an artist from New Jersey, Catherine Whitehead. She travelled here to participate in Morristown's Plein Air event. I could only see the top of her hat because she was sitting in the field, painting. The field was a collage of beautiful, colorful wildflowers swaying in the gentle breeze. When I think about it, such a scene is repeated alongside so many of our country roads. After introducing myself, I learned this artist was infatuated with the fields drenched in purples and yellows and oranges and shades of white and green. Catherine Whitehead was delightful. Very welcoming despite my int...

  These two caught my eye as I drove by. The goat was following the horse. Something made me turn around and stop my car. I watched as the horse led the goat from one spot to another. When the goat was lagging behind, the horse would stop and wait, turning around to see where the goat was, patiently waiting for his friend. They seemed to be on a mission. I got the feeling this was not a chance meeting. They appeared to have a close relationship. Walking about that field looked to be a routine thing they did together. The horse was the leader, watching over his friend. The goat seemed appreciative, running at times to catch up. Traffic was pretty heavy. First a tractor with a friendly farmer giving me a wave went by. Then an Amish buggy with a young couple and two little ones, curiously smiling, waved back at me as they continued on their way. The longer I sat there the more I realized the horse and the goat were like good friends meeting up in the morning. Going for a cup of coffee...

I have a drawer in an old cupboard where I keep phone books. Lots of old phone books. Some people find it funny that I keep them when we now have phones that store people's phone numbers, making them available to us instantly on demand. While on demand saves you time, it also deprives you of a moment of slowing down and searching pages full of names and addresses and those phone numbers.  I've always considered phone books to be mini history books of a certain place and a certain time. They offer glimpses of names of people who may have moved or passed away or once been your neighbor on a street of long ago. They highlight businesses, everything from corner stores you may have frequented on your way home from school to retail stores that might have since been torn down or closed or moved away. They list the banks. The schools. The funeral homes. The industries and lawyers and hospitals and everything else that makes up a community. And we can't forget those Yellow Pages. I ...