Life through my eyes
I was watching a PBS special about John Denver, and there was one thing about his life that reminded me of my dad. Denver first went to the Rocky Mountains as an adult, and his first wife, Anne, says that Denver (a.k.a. Deutschendorf, such a great German name!) was most at peace when he was … Read more…
My mother loved purple and dancing and wildflowers. She didn’t tolerate BS and couldn’t stand people who didn’t do their job well. She often communicated more by her actions than by her words, although she had a few choice words for me when I was growing up. I often heard such things as: “No, … Read more…
My mom was diagnosed with a Stage IV glioblastoma on February 12, 2015. In honor of Mother’s Day and in light of the not-so-subtle nudge from mortality, I sat down and made a list of the most important lessons I’ve learned at the knee of my mother. 25 Things I Learned from My Mom … Read more…
[This was originally posted on February 10, 2014.] If you grew up on the west side of Rapid City, chances are you went sledding at Chalk Rock Hill. Chalk Rock Hill borders Meadowbrook Elementary School grounds on the east, at the corner of Arrowhead Drive and West Flormann Street. Most of the year the … Read more…
For most of us growing up in the Dakotas, we’re only a few generations removed from those who tamed the virgin prairies with plows or fed the nations’ city dwellers with beef, wheat, corn, and pork. Our grandparents, great and great-great grandparents were farmers and ranchers or they were small town merchants who brought plumbing … Read more…
I live in Alabama now, and Alabama is covered in pine trees. They grow on low rolling hills, near marshy bogs and on sun baked plains. The loblolly pine is particularly prevalent, as it grows quickly, even in the red clay soils of the Deep South. The trees are judiciously harvested for various wood products … Read more…
My Black Hills, my home (part 1) When did I know that I belonged to the Hills? I’ve seen the pictures of day trips that my parents took when I was a toddler—a blanket laid beneath a tree while my dad climbed on some rocks nearby or my little head bobbing on my dad’s back … Read more…