Grandma Sherfy was my current age—75—in 1963. That year, I was a cocky high school junior—finding my bearings, myself, my prowess. Aunt Blanche would die in November—breast cancer. So would President Kennedy. We were catching…
At the edge of sleep, Just as Simon’s paw reaches under the covers for my cheek, I wake at home. The corner of North Ash and Earl, in McPherson. The brick bungalow that my dad…
May first in Montana; May Day. Spring, or so the calendar has said since late March. But we know better here. Now is not the time to hang the snow shovel in the garage Or…
The Meagher County Poor Farm sits on the western edge of White Sulphur Springs, Montana. You turn off beside the once-grand old Ringling house and follow a winding gravel road until you come to what,…
I am what time, circumstance, history, have made of me, certainly, but I am, also, much more than that.So are we all. James Baldwin I once read obits more carefully, for the stories they told….
The Brethren of my youth defined themselves by “no’s.” No smoking, no drinking, no gambling, no taking the lord’s name in vain. No attachment to worldly goods or fun that might lead to sex before…
He was the kindest man I’ve known: scholar, gentleman, Lutheran, dad, husband, boss, Chief Historian of the National Park Service (NPS). Although he had too little confidence in himself, his political instincts were spot on….
This early spring, I stretched to the far side of my memory, Stalking riches: the pure gold of so many moments that life has given me; The uncanny, dazzling opportunities that I never saw coming…
Montana Preservation I’d spent that 1980 April morning interviewing. The Montana Historical Society’s Preservation Office Program Manager job was up for grabs. Notwithstanding the fact that I’d just snagged a great position in the National…
Montana Preservation I’d write a more fulsome history of my 15 years as Montana’s State Historic Preservation Officer, if I could remember them. That alone is a puzzle. How is it that the defining position…