It was the summer after my second year of college; the summer of 1962. I had spent the school year living in a not exactly dormitory.
In anticipation of the coming baby boomers the college had moved a bachelor officer’s quarters from an Air Force base about 75 miles away and plopped it down between buildings on…Continue
A bog, a marsh, a swamp, a fen
All of them make me smile.
They are, regardless of size,
Not for us.
Their owners slither and creep
Or hop or cruise with spiny fin
And watch us with beady eyes
They warm my heart.
But some can’t stand their insolence
And so they plot to drain the swamp
and leave those creatures high and dry.
A pile of dust and rot.
All a matter of use they…Continue
I have discovered a new way of dealing with the current POTUS based on numerology.
Take all of Art James comments in a single post and add the total number of characters
in all of the comments. (Allow time for a coffee break.)
Take that number and add it to the number of inches of rainfall (do not count snowfall) you received in the last 12 months.
Multiply that number by the number of hours that Wolf Blitzer sleeps in 24…Continue
We lose track of time when we are young and that precarious hold on one part of our orientation to four dimensions becomes even more tenuous as we retire, lose loved ones, become housebound, and in many ways have a more limited existence.
Our time here on Our Salon for some seems to exist out of time. For some of us it is the writing that makes this happen, and for others it is the time spent reading, commenting and discussing.
We come from all kinds of…Continue