I went to a concert tonight. The headliner was a kick-ass country, alternative band called The Old 97s. Most of them hail from Texas, ‘nuff said. The Old 97s, and their touring manager Mike, had graciously allowed me and my scrappy band of videographers (a.k.a. my stellar son Nathan, some sweet guys at Bad Dog Video, who loaned me gear, and both sons Nate and Pat, plus a film school buddy Phil who edited) the chance to shoot a pilot for a reality TV show which I’d cooked … [Read more...]
It was the lingering afterglow of a journalistic inquiry that had yielded open-hearted stories from ten people on a train — ten people whom I’d randomly chosen to interview on a long ride from St. Louis to Albuquerque and back again. I wanted to check in with somebody else — anybody else, to find out how people were feeling about their lives, their families, their jobs, their future, and the future of our nation in the summer of 2017.
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We Knew This Day Would Come
Her paw print arrived today. Bastards. Just about the time I could get through three hours at a time without crying; just about the time I no longer bowed in reverence to the sacred places … [Read More...]
Simply Simon
We called him Jack, Jack the party crasher. As things would turn out, that wasn’t really his name, but it seemed to fit. Jack, sauntering in to a Christmas party in full swing and hopping up on my … [Read More...]
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