Success is a word that is personally defined. If my supposition is correct, yesterday, I met the criteria. I rose, but the shining took a concerted effort—two cups, full. The chores were standard; none were completed at a record pace. Several stacks of shingles left over from the roofing job had to be stored away…
Author: Tim Cotton
Son of a Preacher Man
Being the son of a preacher man tops my list of things to be proud of. In my sixty years on Earth, my experience with organized and unorganized worship differs from that in televised megachurches, big-money donors, and twenty-thousand-seat auditoriums. It’s all foreign to me, and I keep it that way by choice. I spent…
I’ll Always Be Andy
“What others think of us only matters if it’s more positive than we believe ourselves to be.” TC-2024 I’d never of heard him, but I was Andy Etchebarren for a while. I was seven or eight, and Andy Etchebarren never heard of me either. No one in the major leagues knew who I was—at least,…
“72 and 42—Musings for a Saturday Morning”
Contemplative and reflective, I let my mind slip into neutral even though the motorized conveyance’s gear selector was in the drive position. I was driving in a cocktail of weather perfection, stirred, not shaken—but just my soul, which incidentally had a BAC of .000, not counting the possibility that my breakfast orange juice was teetering…
I Can’t See Them, But I Can Hear Them Walking
My ant stopped by with friends. She’s a pest. Before you get all worked up over the spelling of ant, go back to memorizing your Chicago Manual of Style—I have no aunts in the area. It’s been a summer for ants on the Jagged Edge, and it was dry for a spell. I thought I…
Late Summer
As the summer wanes, the camps nearby are empty from the giggles, music, and loud, late-night UNO games. Chainsaws are silent until cooler weather, but the bass along the shore chime in with a splash now and then. Chirping crickets overpower the buzz of mosquitoes, and the crows become more brazen in their hollering from…
The Soft Tap, But a Firm Grip
Tonight, as it often does, the softer hands of grief tapped me on the shoulder while I was driving into a sunset. I’d frequently go to see my Dad and Mom on nights precisely like this. After an ice cream, I’d swing in for a dooryard visit. A ten-minute hello to catch up, but nothing…
Tents, Tarps, Bees, Berries, and Birds
Lying in bed this morning, listening to the raindrops tickle the tarp that topped off the roof, my mind wandered to tents— canvas tents. The stripping and shingling took longer than the time allotted; it is understandable. Showers arrived, unmentioned by those tasked with keeping us abreast of weather events in our area. The meteorologist…
Travels with Charlie…and Lily; Steinbeck Would Approve
Little did these dusty travelers know, two W.A. Bean red snapper hot dogs saved them from sleeping in the middle of the well-haunted Black’s Woods, out on old Route 182. Bear with me; I can explain. I grilled hotdogs late in the afternoon, believing it best to clean out the fridge before leaving the camp…
Oh, How Good It Can Be
Follow me north or east, for that matter; I can take you somewhere where you’ll forget how bad it is because you’ll see how good it can be.