an old writer and his words

  • WHICH

    Tomorrow it will beFriday again, so we knowthe decision is looming, one wehave grown used to, one that weagonize over although in any schemeof things it is trivial at best.But here we are trying to decidewhich of two coffee shops weshould visit tomorrow morning,a bagel and cortado at either,one close, nice and pedestrianbut with the…

    Lou Faber

  • GREAT DIVIDE

    The truck, a white Ford F-150with oversized tires was parkedon the lawn next to the smallparking lot, filling quickly as peoplearrived for the community market. There was a giant flag fixedto the bed of the truck, unavoidableflapping in the breeze,“Let’s Go Brandon,” and everyoneknew the message all too well. Some averted their eyes, a fewsmiled,…

    Lou Faber

  • UNMOVED

    In the community parking lotin the center of Taos,and old pickup sat complacentmore than parked, rustingin spots, last paintedby someone in the late ‘70sperhaps. It might havebeen able to move, but itshowed no desire to do so,tires not flat but wishing so. That was thirteen years ago,and it is likely no longerthere, or collapsed into…

    Lou Faber

  • WATING GAME

    We pull in to the parking lot where our mailboxes are arrayed like so many graves at Arlington, or more like the drawers in a low cost mausoleum. This is the new Postal Service, sharing the burden of the need to cut costs even at the expense of services. Standing nearby are two Sandhill Cranes…

    Lou Faber