The books mentioned in the first part of this column were “Evader” by Jack Newton and “Home Run” by John Nichol and Tony Rennell. Both are tense, exciting books about allied airmen escaping via “lines” run by Dutch, Belgian and French civilians.
I’ve read some interesting books about wartime escape and evasion.
I recently read something that took me back a little.
There is nothing in this world a whole lot better than a good chuckle, is there Johnny?
Last week I mentioned how I walked up to a teacher’s desk with the geography book, showed her how South America and Africa fitted together, and was told, “No, they don’t, Thomas!”
I’ve had a lot of pleasant surprises in my life. I can look across the room and see one of them sitting in her recliner sound asleep, and she is second to none.
If ever in my life I felt like I had stumbled into a time warp and come out on Alpha Centauri it was the day I found myself bumbling down a long, dim corridor walled on both sides by 8-foot-high banks of radio tubes.
If you’ve been reading this column over the years you may have noticed a couple of things about me. One, I am 81 years old. Two, I’m fairly computer literate for an old fogey.
It is 4:25 p.m. on the afternoon of 6 May 2013.
I left off last week where Private First Class Dan Daly, United States Marine Corps, was awarded the Medal of Honor for his heroic part in fighting off thousands of Chinese soldiers who battled to enter the international enclave in Peking in 1900 and slaughter its residents, including thousands of Chinese Christians who had taken refuge there.
If you missed last week’s column, it was about my very first drive in a car. At age 5, all by myself, in the rumble seat of Uncle Joe’s roadster, I was whisked away on a 32-mile trip from one end of Staten Island to the other — a trip that ended with two delicious hot dogs and two whole bottles of root beer.
A few weeks back I mentioned a drive to Payson and back that I genuinely enjoyed. I got thinking about that afterward and could not help but be amazed at how much our attitude toward driving has changed since I was a boy.
Earlier today I chanced on a reference to evil. A few phrases caught my eye: “Deliberate wrongdoing, hurting other people for no reason, committing senseless acts of violence ...”
I’m sitting here “thinking on paper” — letting words flow from my head, through the keyboard, to the screen. I have a question. One I’ll bet you ask yourself once in a while.
I had an odd drive from Pine to Payson the day I wrote this. Odd because it was so easy compared to some drives. There I was, all alone as I left Pine.
Writing about Winston Churchill last week reminded me of some things I’ve heard or read over the years.
People, especially politicians, are always saying nasty things about each other.
One English summer afternoon in 1970, Lolly and I were on Broad Street in Oxford when we spotted a name we both knew well — Blackwell’s Book Store.
My last Air Force unit was a 21-man field training detachment at RAF Upper-Heyford, England. Like all Air Force outfits, we met once a month for commander’s call.
I have a confession, Johnny. I am not just me; I am a lot of people rolled up into one.
Ah yes, children put down deep roots! For a time back when I was 11, I was ready to dig in, find my roots, climb in with them, and pull the sod over me.
There are times we try so hard to do the right thing for our kids that we end up getting it exactly wrong.
As you may or may not know, I do an online forum for the Roundup.
Last week we turned on a computer, opened a browsing program, went to the Google site, and clicked on Maps.
Last week we turned on a computer, opened a browsing program, went to Google, clicked on Maps, and told the machine to show us the Ponderosa Market. Let’s go on from there, OK?
Last week we talked about how much easier it has become to keep in touch with each other.
How many times have you heard someone say that the world has changed since he was born? How many times has a sad shake of a head gone with those words? Quite a few, I’ll bet.
For the past two weeks we’ve been talking about the first few days Lolly and I spent up here in Pine. As you know, if you have been reading the column, they were very special days.
Last week I left off on the second day after Lolly and I moved into our little place in Pine.
I suppose that all of us have been warned against letting first impressions influence us too much, but I’m inclined to agree with 19th century War British writer William Hazlitt who said that first impressions are often the truest. It certainly was a first impression that got my attention back in 1958, when I stopped in a Mesa restaurant on my way to Japan. The people there made me feel as welcome as I have ever felt anywhere. Later that day, when I stopped at a small place up in Kingman, it happened again. Two for two. I couldn’t help thinking that Arizona would be a good place to settle down. I was right.
I read a lot and it never fails to amaze me how often I come across the number seven. It seems to be everywhere.
I don’t remember whether or not I ever mentioned that I’ve had a couple of novels published.
There are two theories of history. One is that leaders arise, creating the history of their time out of who they are.
Last week we spoke of the Miracle of 1801, a moment in time when opposing points of view could have torn our newly founded nation apart.
I make no bones about it — I love this land of ours. I am proud to be a part of it and what it stands for.
One day, one of the wisest men I have ever personally known was running a meeting when someone asked a question.
As I write this it is 1:32 in the afternoon on Thursday, Oct. 18, 2012, and it is a VERY good day.
Last week we left off at the end of the 1931 monster movie “Frankenstein.”
It is Saturday afternoon on a sunny March day, the perfect day to climb Ward Hill.
My mother, God bless her, was one in a million.
Not long ago the saying was, “The sun never sets on the British Empire.”
I have read, and believe, that we all start out with a set of traits we can’t change very much.
If anyone asked me how I feel about fads, I would no doubt say something dumb, like “Are you kidding? I hate fads.
There’s nothing better in life than finding a job that fits you, is there? Each day you go to work in a place you like, where people like you, and where you fit.
Last week I told you about Chuck Dunlap, someone I will never be able to thank enough even if I live to be a thousand.
Eighty years is a long time to live. It gives you a chance to have a lot of fun.
I know you’ve run the across the same news articles I have, the ones that sound so very, very sad, that just drip with sorrow.
More than once, life has taught me a valuable lesson:
I’ll tell you what, Johnny. Never take a young man of 14 who loves reading, but whose knowledge of the world is limited to the way it transpires within the pages of a book, and put him in an isolated, live-in workplace filled with college girls.
Last week we talked about how much pure chance affects what we learn as we pass through life. I find it a fascinating subject, perhaps because I discovered early in life that I am a person who is able to change.