My wife and I finish each other’s sentences — but not for the reasons you might think.
In a strange turn of events, I am learning to be a father all over again.
Apalachicola, Florida is either in the middle of nowhere or the center of the universe depending on who is doing the talking.
Hindsight is a remarkable thing — a moment of clarity that can only come from a different point of view.
This week, the local Rotary Club held a program honoring and celebrating military service.
“The young man outside said your car won’t start.”
Today the screen of our smartphone contains clever solutions and shortcuts to nearly every problem but one: life.
“Aim for the front or right edge,” says the man standing next to me.
Everyone loves an open-door policy. But earlier this week, I saw a different take on the phrase.
Technology is going to be the end of civilization — and I’m not referring to weapons.
My wife will not walk into a room when a baseball game is playing on the television. Welcome to the life of a spouse married to a superstitious baseball fan.
Once upon a time, in a world close to us all, people did not carry cellphones.
One of my favorite lines is “If you want to hear God laugh, tell him your plans.”
“I can’t tell you how many people I’ve driven to the airport without luggage and they said they had to get out of this town.”
“I can’t tell you how many people I’ve driven to the airport without luggage and they said they had to get out of this town.”
My life changed forever inside the walls of a Payless shoe store.
My nerves feel as if my fingertips are being dragged across a rough piece of 40-grit sandpaper.
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