Traveling Through Food Wastelands, Blended Scotch, Uncle Tupelo, And Onto Good Soil.

I’m reading a Chili’s Too menu at Bush Intercontinental Airport as the Bosnia/Nigeria World Cup game buzzes overhead and travelers from the states and the rest of the known world whisk in for a few sips of sacred water and then dash back out for their gates.  I’m flying Spirit Airlines tonight which means I … Continue reading Traveling Through Food Wastelands, Blended Scotch, Uncle Tupelo, And Onto Good Soil.

From Small Goat Farms To Megafarms: The Shared Reality of Urban and Rural America.

Born in Royal Oak, Michigan, raised in Troy, I really didn’t interact with the city of Detroit until I went to Wayne State University located in mid-town, south of Grand Boulevard and what used to be the General Motors Building, and north of Cass Corridor and dire poverty.  My whole stay in the Metro-Detroit area … Continue reading From Small Goat Farms To Megafarms: The Shared Reality of Urban and Rural America.

“Wait till the honeying of the lune, love! Die eve, little eve, die!” Telmetale of Stobhach Gaelach, Guinness and Lady Galadriel.

A few words from Finnegans Wake and we’re off.  Last night, Bloomsday evening fell, along with the one hundredth anniversary of Dubliners reaching the world, the amazing short story collection from Mr. Joyce featuring “The Dead,” and its mesmerizing final lines, “His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and … Continue reading “Wait till the honeying of the lune, love! Die eve, little eve, die!” Telmetale of Stobhach Gaelach, Guinness and Lady Galadriel.