I left out that he was an heir to the Oneida silverware family in NY. I suspect he eventually gave up Rocky Mountain oysters and went home to a cushy executive job.
I think we just get out there, start trying, never stop, and see where it goes. Of course, there is luck and mistakes and good fortune all rolled in there.
It wasn't all that edifying, Dave. The pastor seemed to be going through the motions. Didn't have much to say. I think he was new and just felt he was obligated to show up. Now the convo with my program director boss, that was different. I just lost it. Was hard enough trying to start your first day running a radio board and doing all those tasks without having a twerp over your shoulder commenting on your every move.
I always admire the flourishes of description with which you endive your writing: "The sky beyond my headlights was a black from the edge of the universe and was diminished only by the light of the Milky Way, which was so distinct it appeared almost as cirrus clouds drifting southward."
Glad to have had you along. Would've been a dark and lonely drive, otherwise.
I left out that he was an heir to the Oneida silverware family in NY. I suspect he eventually gave up Rocky Mountain oysters and went home to a cushy executive job.
I think we just get out there, start trying, never stop, and see where it goes. Of course, there is luck and mistakes and good fortune all rolled in there.
Beware, Brian. We are wandering on the motorcycle when the Esther warms up. Was up there mountain biking last May in Colorado Springs.
It wasn't all that edifying, Dave. The pastor seemed to be going through the motions. Didn't have much to say. I think he was new and just felt he was obligated to show up. Now the convo with my program director boss, that was different. I just lost it. Was hard enough trying to start your first day running a radio board and doing all those tasks without having a twerp over your shoulder commenting on your every move.
You and your wife should revisit the Colorado High Plains and the Front Range, Jim. Some things haven't changed. Some things have changed a lot.
Our guest room in Old Town Timnath awaits you...
My how I wish I’d been on the listening end of your “discussion” with Timbo (and the pastor). What a hoot.
I always admire the flourishes of description with which you endive your writing: "The sky beyond my headlights was a black from the edge of the universe and was diminished only by the light of the Milky Way, which was so distinct it appeared almost as cirrus clouds drifting southward."
I was there, man. I was there. Thanks.
I'm sure Timbo made to TV New, deservedly so.
I really have no idea how I ever made it from the bottom to the middle, but the truth is somewhere in your story.