It’s around noon on a Sunday. I’m 14 years old, sitting in my dad's Chevrolet work truck, which (and I don’t mean to brag too much here) is equipped with some fancy modern technology that I’m currently using. An 8-track tape player. Don’t be jealous. The speakers are vibrating with…

And don’t forget your camera either — As a Trial Defense Attorney for the Army Reserve, I had to attend many conferences. This one was in Portland. Oregon. Now, I had wanted to take along my good camera, but the battery was dead and I couldn’t find the battery charger. So, I said to my wife, “Wife…

Or maybe not, it was dark and such — I am a freshman in college attending a small college in northeast Alabama. It’s 8:52 p.m. and I’m headed home to Mobile for the weekend. These few months at college have been harder than I thought they’d be. I load stuff into my 1973 Plymouth Gold-Duster and head south. Up…

A short tale about punishing those we love — I was nine years old the first time I quit. The reason that I left little league football was not that I didn’t want to play. I did. I mean, I had the usual football heroes like Roger Staubach and Archie Manning which likely reflects my age and NFL geographical…

And why it’s a good idea to chain your motorcycle — A Kawasaki 900. It was probably a 1988 or 1989 model. I don’t remember, but it was a beautiful bike. Dark blue and way too much power for a teenager to handle. …

Also, beware the future — I ran across this little popcorn tree a few days ago. As strange as this may sound, I miss them. (Yes, I do know that they are an invasive species, but go with me here.) This one is growing in a field next to our apartment complex. For it to…

Turns out, that a stupid idea, in any other language, is still stupid. I’m on a bus in northern Russia. Our small group consisted of my future mother-in-law, a friend named George, and me. We were headed somewhere in town. My Russian skills then, like now, were nonexistent, but I…

The Army Reserve, Haircuts, and could you please stop asking me that? — I’m sitting in a barbershop in Northwest Arkansas probably 15 years ago when the obligatory barber conversation started: Me: “Just give me a low fade, kinda like a national guard cut.” Barber: “Oh, are you retired?” I frown and stay silent for a minute. Because, well, ‘one of these things…

Being called father by any other name is just as great — As a new paternal unit, I pondered what I wanted to be called by our children. For some reason, I wanted them to call me Papa. I’m not sure why. Maybe because that's what their mother had always called her paternal unit in Russia where she was born and raised. …