Talking In My Sleep

Flicksville, Pennsylvania was my home for most of three decades.  In that time I delved into the history of the village, very little of which had been recorded in a single work, and wrote, with contributions from locals, Flicksville History.  A group of these folks had created a history club and held meetings in the Flicksville Church.  We organized a bicentennial celebration in 1991 and that same year published a monograph on the history of the village.  This piece is the foreword that I wrote for that work.   FOREWORD             The dusty memories of a little village of no particular grand distinction will, undoubtedly, be laughable to some. At times, I myself am struck by the notion, "What an incredible squandering of time and energy this project is!"    The number of individuals in this account who gained any notoriety or who were of obvious significance beyond the confines o...

[Posted in the Lowell Edition of Front Porch Forum (https://frontporchforum.com/) on April 10, 2019]      Just returned from a week in Sanibel, Florida where I was involved in high-level negotiations with the Sun, imploring it to return to northern Vermont. I accosted it first thing each morning as it arose over Dinken's Bayou and tucked it in behind Blind Pass Beach each night. Throughout the day we chatted as I walked in surf and lounged in sand, but no near-term commitments were to be had, so I returned to Lowell to find snow-covered fields, icy rivers, and chilling winds. My apologies to all. Especially, to the lonely woodcock who "peents" each frigid evening along our hedgerow before launching through bone-chilling air on his sky dance. Also to the waterfowl, huddled en masse in sparse open waters on iced-over lakes. And, our hungry barred owl whose dinner remains well hidden under persistent snow. But, I hear no complaints from these wild creatures – ...

Written August 9, 2007 From childhood's hour I have not been         As others were; I have not seen         As others saw; I could not bring         My passions from a common spring.         From the same source I have not taken         My sorrow; I could not awaken         My heart to joy at the same tone;         And all I loved, I loved alone.           Edgar Allan Poe. "Alone."                                                  The fact is, he was a homely child – his baby pictures always remind him of unflattering photographs of Pres...

Written June 8, 2005            I spoke to Joe Renard the other day.  We talk by phone every few weeks these days.  He went on about his five children, all girls, eight grandchildren, and four great grandchildren, all brilliant.  Nearly all his descendents who have come of age have acquired advanced education.   Three daughters have master's degrees.  Joe himself claims to be a fourth grade dropout from a one-room schoolhouse, but he contends in his slow, gravely voice, “I figure a fourth grade education in a one room school house is about the same as a master's degree these days.”  Then he got down to what we both love - “Where Are They Now?”  Joe fills me in on the long-lost gentry of Camp Hill , PA – names that I remember from times long past.  These conversations evoke long-sleeping memories and shed insights into some of that town’s social machinations that I couldn’t grasp as a boy.  ...

The Boy Left in Eden Written January 28, 2008 Edited September 1, 2022 We've had bad luck with children; they've all grown up. Christopher Morley              Nostalgia is an elixir to me.  The ability to circumvent time would be my first request of a magic genie.  It is a power I covet more than a typical child desires the ability to fly.  My favorite movies are those about time travel.  I was enthralled by H. G. Wells’, The Time Machine , much more for the fantasy of watching Rod Taylor pass through the ages aboard his miracle device than for the author’s more poignant theme of social commentary. My wife, Jennifer, has exclaimed about me, “I’ve never known anyone who wanted to go back as much as he does.”  Guilty as charged.  Once I tried to submit to hypnosis because I was led to understand that the effect is much like a time machine, allowing one to access a moment of one’s choosing and experi...