This is Ed, who walks the opposite way ’round from me in the morning. Like the two cartoon sheepdogs clocking out: “Mornin’ Ed.” “Mornin’ Ed.” Only twice, since we walk in overlapping loops. We can tell ourselves apart because I’m the one with the faux hip, he’s the one with the pacemaker…or, wait a minute,
Category: All about me
Case in Point
No one has actually asked my why I go out to walk (or, in the old days, run) at 5 a.m. Today provided plenty of reasons. The soft pre-dawn light lit the low ground mist around the Mill Gut, and I walked through a cascade of mist that flowed past the Coggeshall farmhouse, the ice
My Approach to Pedagogy
In the fall of 2008 I applied for a tenure-track position at the university where I currently teach as a full-time visiting professor. As I observed to a friend, that would mean that I would be eligible for tenure when I reach 75…just when I’d really be able to enjoy it. Part of the application
Walkin’, yes indeed, and I’m talkin’…
Last time, I was about to get a new right hip; it was supposed to happen on the 9th of December but due to an unusual set of circumstances, Laurie and I ended up being told, at 6 p.m., that the surgery wasn’t going to happen that day. (The day of fasting and prep was
Happy Holidays!
The fall has been spent wearing away the last few centimeters of cartilage around my right hip joint, so the time has come to call for replacements. I have never been a fan of artificiality, even when it comes with “triple-stranded polymer plastic” which I am told will make up the lining of my new
Grumpy
I’ve been chewing on this one for a while. A while back, I posted this photo to a weather site because I thought that it captured early summer morning mist in a thoroughly bucolic setting. It has the hand-hewn fence, the thistles, the Queen Anne’s lace and – of course – the cow (incidentally, an
Eccentricity
Maurice Webster was my father’s mother’s brother. An achitect who played chess at the open-air chess boards in Chicago. He rolled his own cigarettes from a pouch of Bull Durham, a process that fascinated small children. Once, when he was visiting Beloit to look after a building project on the college campus, I saw him
Email to my son
Your mother has me reading her book club book, Wallace Stegner’s Crossing to Safety, taking its name from a Robert Frost poem, not a Robert Frost poem that I know, nor one that I heard him read when he appeared at Stanford when I was an undergraduate. Wallace Stegner was, when I was an
Deciding moments
Working on another video taken in Honduras in 1965, I am reminded that my trip there probably accounts for a pretty decisive turn in my thoughts about what I would take up as a career. It was the beginning of a decision to leave the military rather than stay in for twenty years and then take up
Cabbages and kings 
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