Thanksgiving weekend, eight of us family members spanning three generations packed into my Honda Pilot and headed down to the Bolivar Peninsula where I grew up. We were on a mission to visit Dad’s favorite restaurant down there, and remember him. It was a perfect […]
This rough little poem came spilling out of me as I thought of those halcyon sand-ridden childhood days and so many memories flooded in. Everything seemed so safe, so permanent, so lively-lovely in our tiny town of 600, Gilchrist, Texas.
Birds and more birds enjoying the mild winter in Gilchrist, Texas on the Bolivar Peninsula: herons, sandpipers, brown pelicans and seagulls. A great day trip from Houston.
This little memoir is dedicated to everyone who loved my brother Steve, and has the same bigger-but-now-broken heart because of his presence in your life.
