I write about nationalism, sustainable economies, public history, social movements, immigration, MeToo issues, and ethical travel. Since November 2023, I have been living on the road, staying in a different country every month. I write about that experience in my Aging on the Run series.
Confessions of a Post-Impressionist in France
“The more I read, the more I acquire, the more certain I am that I know nothing.” 17th Century French Philosopher, Voltaire In France, I acquired...
A Sheep Farm in Wales
Walking Welsh Winds. South Wales reminded me of the Driftless Region of Minnesota and Wisconsin, with rolling hills, rivers, and a mixture of forest and field. Yet there was the ocean and warm Gulf...
Musing in Montenegro’s Capital City
I began this essay in Montenegro, where people speak a local Serbian dialect, and finished writing it in Wales, where Welsh is visible on every signpost, yet English is undeniably dominant. Such is...
In Montenegro I Think of Sandwiches—Not the Bread Kind.
In Montenegro, I think of sandwiches. Not the mustard/mayo, whole wheat-or-rye kind. I think about rivers, lakes, and bays, sandwiched between mountains. These are waterways of unsurpassed...
Confessions of a Post-Impressionist in France
“The more I read, the more I acquire, the more certain I am that I know nothing.” 17th Century French Philosopher, Voltaire In France, I acquired...
A Sheep Farm in Wales
Walking Welsh Winds. South Wales reminded me of the Driftless Region of Minnesota and Wisconsin, with rolling hills, rivers, and a mixture of forest and field. Yet there was the ocean and warm Gulf...
Musing in Montenegro’s Capital City
I began this essay in Montenegro, where people speak a local Serbian dialect, and finished writing it in Wales, where Welsh is visible on every signpost, yet English is undeniably dominant. Such is...
In Montenegro I Think of Sandwiches—Not the Bread Kind.
In Montenegro, I think of sandwiches. Not the mustard/mayo, whole wheat-or-rye kind. I think about rivers, lakes, and bays, sandwiched between mountains. These are waterways of unsurpassed...
Recent Posts
.I write about nationalism, sustainable economies, public history, social movements, immigration, MeToo issues and non-car travel. Since November. 2023, I have been living on the road, staying in a different country every month. I write about that experience in my Aging on the Run series.
Confessions of a Post-Impressionist in France
“The more I read, the more I acquire, the more certain I am that I know nothing.” 17th Century French Philosopher, Voltaire In France, I acquired...
A Sheep Farm in Wales
Walking Welsh Winds. South Wales reminded me of the Driftless Region of Minnesota and Wisconsin, with rolling hills, rivers, and a mixture of forest and field. Yet there was the ocean and warm Gulf...
Musing in Montenegro’s Capital City
I began this essay in Montenegro, where people speak a local Serbian dialect, and finished writing it in Wales, where Welsh is visible on every signpost, yet English is undeniably dominant. Such is...
In Montenegro I Think of Sandwiches—Not the Bread Kind.
In Montenegro, I think of sandwiches. Not the mustard/mayo, whole wheat-or-rye kind. I think about rivers, lakes, and bays, sandwiched between mountains. These are waterways of unsurpassed...
Confessions of a Post-Impressionist in France
“The more I read, the more I acquire, the more certain I am that I know nothing.” 17th Century French Philosopher, Voltaire In France, I acquired...
A Sheep Farm in Wales
Walking Welsh Winds. South Wales reminded me of the Driftless Region of Minnesota and Wisconsin, with rolling hills, rivers, and a mixture of forest and field. Yet there was the ocean and warm Gulf...
Musing in Montenegro’s Capital City
I began this essay in Montenegro, where people speak a local Serbian dialect, and finished writing it in Wales, where Welsh is visible on every signpost, yet English is undeniably dominant. Such is...
In Montenegro I Think of Sandwiches—Not the Bread Kind.
In Montenegro, I think of sandwiches. Not the mustard/mayo, whole wheat-or-rye kind. I think about rivers, lakes, and bays, sandwiched between mountains. These are waterways of unsurpassed...
Recent Posts
Confessions of a Post-Impressionist in France
“The more I read, the more I acquire, the more certain I am that I know nothing.” 17th Century French Philosopher, Voltaire In France, I acquired...
A Sheep Farm in Wales
Walking Welsh Winds. South Wales reminded me of the Driftless Region of Minnesota and Wisconsin, with rolling hills, rivers, and a mixture of forest and field. Yet there was the ocean and warm Gulf...
Musing in Montenegro’s Capital City
I began this essay in Montenegro, where people speak a local Serbian dialect, and finished writing it in Wales, where Welsh is visible on every signpost, yet English is undeniably dominant. Such is...
In Montenegro I Think of Sandwiches—Not the Bread Kind.
In Montenegro, I think of sandwiches. Not the mustard/mayo, whole wheat-or-rye kind. I think about rivers, lakes, and bays, sandwiched between mountains. These are waterways of unsurpassed...
Welcome!
I write about nationalism, immigration, public history, sustainable economies, MeToo issues and the politics of travel