Earl Goodall, my neighbor, friend, and an amiable human being, passed on at age 93 on July 5, 2024. Earl was the subject of my 2021 16-minute documentary, "When Earl Went to War", about his Korean War service, while also portraying the man's sweet, down-home character. Here's a look back at the kind of guy who never gets lifted up…
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While the country careens towards an election that will determine everything, your webguy takes a mental health break to look at Fourth of July fireworks as an art form.
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The road goes ever, ever on, even as / we trek, head downward before the dusk, / following the tips of our black shoes. / Wondering who did this to us or that / to us. And how did I get here?!? / And where, O where, will I wash up next …
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Post-eclipse, thrilling with fellow humans at what we had just witnessed, it was a stark reminder of how few and precious are the sweet collective experiences we now share in an America riven by engineered dispute. And how utterly important it is to be reminded of the significance of shared wonder.
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10 photographs from around the neighborhood, allied with quotations and excerpts that may or may not align, but it's all good.
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From glimpses of cellular life to the Kirkin' o' the Tartans, from rectilinear concrete to the healing vibe of marshlands, plus a diner at the end of the world, here's a multimedia tour of travels around the shire of West Virginia.
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Bill Hart, a dear traveling companion through this vale and holler of light and darkness, passed from this mysterious world on Friday evening, on Feb. 9, 2024. Here are some thoughts and images about a notable human being, artist, and world-class craftsman. And, to be sure, a genuinely offbeat, unconventional, and bohemian soul.
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Here are four things I suggest may be worth several minutes of your hard-earned life-force, when the thought arises that you could use a break to think about something other than what you've been thinking about.
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Take a break from worrying about the fate of the Republic, beyond the locked gates of a forested park where the pine trees offer fine company and conversation and the view from on high poses some good questions.
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I toil mostly in obscurity. But which writer does not? / Except for those few who are feted, adored, and / lifted so high. Until they pass from favor & are knocked / back to the second-rank, never to return to / the heights from which they sipped / the better champagnes ...
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If you make sure to buy your pants with cellphone pockets, you can more easily capture the moment when the Sour Gum tree beside your house catches fire.
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There is much to rue about living in West Virginia, run, as it is, by empty suits and chuckleheads. But every time I think of leaving for a bluer state, this one floors me with the views from being way the heck out in the Mountain State.
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There are many days it seems to me music is helpless against the daily worldwide onslaught of human beings acting like cruel demons. Yet the promise of coming together to experience the communion of shared and transporting musicality is certainly not nothing.
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Here are some snapshots, hipshots and night shots, from wandering the highways, byways, and lifeways of the world through which my iPhone moves, in the small towns, small cities and hills of West Virginia.
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A couple of eightysomething artists refuse to stop being wonderful, while the capital city of West Virginia pays colorful homage to the passing of another master artist.
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