The Blog: Voices from the road

There are many things from my past I often dwell on. It’s a habit, good or bad I am not sure, but I camp on seething little thoughts… “Would or should I have done something differently?”  Decisions made or better yet, decisions not made, which is really a decision… but

Being a child in the ’60s and ’70s, I grew up with the enthusiasm and messaging that only NASA could pull off. ANYTHING was possible and so much of our ‘childhood’ revolved around the era of Apollo when mankind left his bootprint on the white dusty surface of the moon.

Not too many days ago I stood in a Virginia afternoon sun by the grave of a dear friend, from many years ago. Standing with the shining warmth on my back I realized that our time together felt like it was yesterday… high school graduates, brought together by an unseen

His worn sandals crushed and ground the sand down as He made His way to the well. Though dry, the weather of Sychar, a township of Samaria, was comfortable for the desert. Whatever the temperature and heat index, Jacob’s well was the stop off, like a modern-day watering hole… but

The old mortar and brick of the village buildings were scarred and what was left of the roads were a pimpled face, pocked mark version of their former days. The year was 1942 and the conflict with Britain and Germany was in full swing. Townspeople hid most of the time

It’s hard to know where to begin. Last week I kept a promise to my son… if he passed high school we would take a trip to Southern California to be around ‘surf mecca’. What it turned out to be was a chance to watch the ‘post-high school’ step, and

My son, sometimes the reason we face change is to make room for ‘more’ or ‘different.’ You are at a stage in your life where a ton of change isn’t just over the horizon of your life, but it is literally in your driveway about to park and walk in

When I think back at the obstacles in my life, without a doubt the ‘internal’ struggles have been the most potent, most destructive, and most lasting. Think with me for a minute as you start playing the tape in your head, or more importantly, the tape that plays in your

The wings of this old 172 reach out to feel the air pushing back and the conversation starts. Speeding forward down runway 23L, the unseen exchange between wing and wind suspends gravity as we rise into the cool blue sky for another adventure between the vacuum of space and the

My son, with all of the voices you have clamoring for your attention, including your own voice, which I am happy to say is becoming more and more like a man’s, and since I don’t stand in a pulpit any longer, let me give you my thoughts. I wanted to