Category Archives: The Other Village

I once read Stephen Hawking’s “A Brief History of Time.” Heavy sledding, but there was this one bright moment when it all became perfectly clear. My hair stood on end for about five seconds, and then it all fell apart … Continue reading →

This could be Appendix A to “A North Country Guy’s Guide to North Country Guys.”  Why Guys Don’t Need Purses Everything a guy needs fits into his pockets.Wallet in the right rear, comb in the left–so he can buy beer, … Continue reading →

The doctrine of karma can be pretty discouraging. This may be why so many, given the choice, prefer a merciful God to a just one. Bad Karma Sutra Aside from doing nothing, there’s nothing you can doto avoid it. Think … Continue reading →

Photo: stuart anthony, Creative Commons, some rights reserved Being cold a lot is good for the ingenuity. There a lot of ways to get warm, both literally and figuratively. Ignore the folks from more blessed climes who try to tell … Continue reading →

Artists of all kinds are often accused of prettifying the world, cleaning up its faults and scars to make an artificial beauty. But the opposite is more often true. What the world presents, what nature does of its own accord … Continue reading →

I added to my old man skill set by learning to play backgammon this week. I have a little bit to say about the social utility of board games, but not much. Board Games In a far corner of the … Continue reading →

While I have sufficient opinions on the management of every aspect of life, I’m afraid I will never get the opportunity to run the world according to my designs because I am always discombobulated by the coming of morning. While … Continue reading →

As a young reader I was strongly bitten by poems such as “We Are Those People” by Robinson Jeffers, and novels like “The Man in the High Castle” by Phillip Dick. The darkness and chaos of the last few years … Continue reading →

While I should have been letting go of all thinking behind my half-closed eyelids, I noticed instead how the creases in my cupped palms spelled out MM–memento mori. From then until the closing bell chimed, this little poem formed in mind. … Continue reading →