I almost always slowed as I crossed the footbridge, because there was almost always something interesting for a boy to see in the clear, running waters of North Indian Creek. Read more



Guy Smalley illustration •

The memory is dream-like now, but some parts are vivid as if the events happened yesterday. Read more


The local paper did a full page spread on my dad’s retirement. “The end of an era,” the paper called it. But it was really just the beginning of the end. Read more


Early rising on cold winter mornings almost always kindles for me a momentary feeling of comfort, safety and well-being. What, specifically, keys that response? It is the memory from my childhood of feeling forced warm air on my bare feet. Read more

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In North Carolina, snow blooms in the air as suddenly as a bank of dogwoods in spring, and—like the dogwood—we can never precisely predict its coming and going. It rarely piles up high enough or lingers long enough in most areas of the state. Read more