My son Benjamin, aka Benji, my assigned sobriquet, which I’mmm— pretty sure, he just ignores, and chalks it up as, it’s the ole-man, and he ain’t right, was doing a reading from a piece he wrote, Don’t Worry, Your “Secret” is Safe with Me, in commenonration of his MFA degree completion from Southern Connecticut State University … Continue reading "Yet, Another New England Seaside Mystery"

The trite phrase of “You can’t judge a book by its cover”— originally, the closing word was binding not cover and it was attributed to a 1944 edition of the African journal American speech—which, this svelte, modestly jacketed edition of Walking, it too, oratory in genesis, was a compilation of a mutating speech, whose maiden name … Continue reading "Walking by H.D. Thoreau"

My grandson, Jackson, aka Jack, who, like all typical seven year olds has a fertile imagination; a virtual airport that entreats fantasies, which are not shackled to the reality of the basic laws of science—essentially, a free passport to air castles. The mere mention of castles, stone fortified mansions, residence of reigning regality, armored Knights … Continue reading "My Grandson’s Sanctuary: Imagination"