Caches of intimate and sentimental objects tell stories. Those artifacts that inhabit spaces and places like pockets, catch-alls, and cup holders proclaim both how we have lived and what we anticipate. Our “daily carry” can be mundane, utilitarian, and perhaps thoughtless. Conversely, many exist for nostalgic yearning, pleasurable habit, and perhaps vanity. The modern man’s … Continue reading
When I find something interesting, enjoyable, or necessary I sometimes become obsessed. I mine deeper and deeper for the most precious gems. I want to own the things I invest my time in, not rent them. I don’t want to be a tourist. Like every sport or hobby, fly fishing has a culture, a depth … Continue reading
I came to know David Coggins through Instagram. As a “brand” he wanders into my feed, from the AI, “something you might like”. He is suggested-liked-commented upon by “my people”. He’s a writer, a sharp and interesting fellow I observe in those little squares every other day or so. He is of folk and celebrity … Continue reading
There are far more qualified folks that could tell you about their records. Mine is not about building a valuable collection in a baseball collection sense. I’m a listener. The experience for me is about sitting down and enjoying a moment. The scene, the time to sit down, the warmth of music produced to be listened to the right way. I’ve thumbed the vintage shop crates for first releases of my favorite music, I’ve bought a bunch of new pressings, I’ve asked folks that I suspected have great music from the 60s, 70s, and 80s to let me find a kind home for the records in storage . . Continue reading
Through these short days of a new year, we come in from the field. Our chapped hands wrap around whisky on the cold, darkest days of the year. The warmth of our hearth beckons us- as so does the comfort of winter food. Freezers are full of our quarry and the larder holds the last … Continue reading
A hunting journal entry and reflection by my father, R. Wm. Kelly, Jr. Dog ownership never was much of a consideration through my professional adult life. Sure we had a few when I was a kid and so many of my weekends were spent on local farms hunting and hanging out along side my father. … Continue reading
In the lines again with the cockeyed stares of those around. Gawking in pajamas as they ram into achilles and wondering how my eyes look so carefree. They push and the ticket clerks again clueless about how to check a firearm. Travelers shuffling baggage of selfish anticipation- and we all move through talking out over … Continue reading
I was born in bottom half of September, just as the calendar claims Autumn. The trees are still full of green leaves- a cool harvest breeze passes through them- waiting to desiccate, rustle, and set adrift. Autumn is my terroir- copper freckles and auburn hair. Brown saddle leather and Irish Tweed. The R months beckon … Continue reading
* Doves is a chapter from Providence: The Story, a book I wrote for my family in 2013. Story XVIII Doves Gill Jr and Gill III – 2012 It had been a few years since Gill spent a fair deal of quality time at the place. Daily life was busy and he rarely made the … Continue reading
It was a golf cabin and he was a golfer. I’m not a golfer. He said bring, “bring your rod, there’s a little fishing on the golf course- maybe you can show me something- we have permits to fish it- it’s private.” This is when I termed the phrase, WHORE HOUSE FISHING. It was the same experience I had 15 years prior. Pellet feed, no one around, absolute monsters. Whore house fishing because your paid for it. Continue reading
