• Memoir

    first day of school . . . every day

    There’s no word in the language I revere more than ‘teacher.’ My heart sings when a kid refers to me as his teacher, and it always has. I’ve honored myself and the entire family of man by becoming a teacher. ~ Pat Conroy, Prince of Tides On the first day of school, I brought my camera along, excited to capture…

  • Memoir

    hand ballet

    Fourth Day: Celebrating the Ordinary Graceful and elegant, my daughter’s fingers catch the sun spilling through the window. For a moment, I am undone, realizing that my little girl’s hands are those of a young woman. Strong and steady, the real warrior in our house.  As though it were yesterday, I remember when she first discovered her hands. For her…

  • Memoir

    matchstick men: elevating the ordinary

    Celebrating the Ordinary: Day 3 Strolling along the beach on a foggy afternoon last month, it occurred to me that the Morro Bay oceanfront would not be entirely out of place in an early 20th century industrial landscape by English artist, L.S. Lowry. Not unlike his famous “matchstick” people, swarms of beachcombers are dwarfed by three towering smokestacks every bit…

  • Arizona,  Artisans,  Crafts,  Memoir,  Memoir,  Ordinary Things,  Phoenix,  Writing

    little houses … for the birds

    The boughs of a Chilean mesquite tree hang low in our backyard, weighed down with wind-chimes and things that twirl and spin in warm desert winds. From the uppermost branches, hang bird houses of weathered wood, treasures crafted from trash scavenged by artisan, David Bruce. In his hands, scrap lumber and sheet metal, random doorknobs, rusty garden fixtures, old silver forks and spoons are…