Ketchup

On every summer weekend across the country, grills fire up and hot dogs blacken and burst. Beer tops pop, plastic chairs drag across cluttered patios and the intemperate laughter of revelers fills neighborhoods as America’s middle class sprawls undressed in the summer heat. As the hot dogs come off the grill, the immoral humor, the … Continue reading Ketchup

Forty

When I turned 40, I got my Bearcat revolver and a box of cartridges and laid them on our kitchen table. I brought my spotting scope, my road atlas. I carried up my sleeping bag, two hats, my leather carry bag, a sheath knife, my Leatherman. Around my neck I hung a steel medallion on … Continue reading Forty

Tracy

Building fences for people often inserts me into the center of marriages, a no-mans-land where escape turns on my abilities as a counselor, salesman and psychologist. I knew Landon* through business. In his office he was breezy, a tall, dark and handsome man.  Their home, high on a hill above town, was an enormous stucco … Continue reading Tracy

Cow

All afternoon I sit in the bunchgrass on an open hillside. The elk are below me in a grassy bowl, on private land, just out of sight. I can hear the bulls bugle, imagine the herd sprawled in the sunlight, ears droopy and rocking to the rhythm of their cud chewing jaws. I lay in … Continue reading Cow