Via a finger, I have a question. Is it more important that I have confidence in God? Or, is it more important that God has confidence — a demonstrable confidence
We’ll be starting off today’s trail ride with a feud. With none less than Time Magazine. Just wanted to warn you up front so you’d be loaded for bear. That’s
So. Last week, I got the prostrate operation. I am showered in the blessings of having so many friends who all, coincidentally, share the mental acumen of an eighth grade
Happy darn Santa Clarita Saturday to you, saddlepals. First weekend in September. It’s a grand morning for a trail ride to distant Santa Clarita Valley vistas. We’ve got moonshiners, ranch
Perhaps John Steinbeck is in Heaven, pounding away on yet another flawless masterpiece, pausing to glance down from a cloud and wondering who is swearing at him back on Earth.
Top of another hot August morn to you, dear saddlepals. We’ve a most interesting trail ride through Santa Clarita history ahead. We’ve got unlucky CHP officers, movie stars, moonshiners, plane
Looking back, I’ve been blessed more than most men. But, there is a yawning chasm of personal achievement in my life that haunts me. I’ve never had a food
A most warm and Western howdy to you all, dear saddlepals. We’ve a most excellent adventure ahead. We’ll be oohing and aahing over 8-pound gold nuggets, epic tunnels, August flash
Small things disturb me. Like, Phasers. You know. “Phased Array Emitter?” Remember? From the old 1966 TV show, “Star Trek?” Bill Shatner. Captain Kirk. “Boldly go where no man has
Top of a summer Saturday in the riparian Santa Clarita to you, dear saddlepals and saddlepal-ettes. We’ve a grand trail ride through local history ahead. There’s movie stars both local
I am probably the absolute last person to write an essay on dressing up. Except for a gorilla suit and my cherished Wilt Chamberlain No. 13 wife-beater basketball jersey, I could
A pleasant and sultry first Saturday in August to you, saddlepals. C’mon. Swish around a little of that designer mouthwash. Slide into your loafers. Get a decent pair of sunglasses.
The other day, I was chatting with a dear friend who still lugged around one of those old-fashioned beasties upon his tightly wound shoulders we older people like to call,
A happy Late July/Hotter Than Hades morn to you, saddlepals. Best we climb out of those bunks and hop into our saddles (taking the all-important middle step of putting on
My mind is oft occupied by odd thoughts and that is why I’m not on the receiving end of The Big Bucks. Or, a heartfelt and long-lasting Hug Of Appreciation
A sultry Sunday morning to you, saddlepals. Make sure those canteens are filled. Best we keep hydrated in today’s trail ride through SCV time. There’s knuckleheaded crooks, a big potato
I was often haunted by a childhood more horror movie than “Leave it to Beaver” but, those harsh memories have mostly drifted, replaced by recollections of blessings. Despite the cowboy hat,
Whelp. I have to ask. This fine, July Saturday morn, how the canned peach- eating heck are you, dear saddlepals? Right on schedule, ahead we’ve a mighty fine trail ride
I seem to remember being just drug-addict junkie hooked on “Yellowstone.” I am, of course, talking about the hit Paramount TV modern Western. Not the solemn one-word diagnosis from our
A happy and belated 247th birthday to — well. Whom else? Us. Great darn country and then some. Let’s do our part to keep this wonderful American civilization growing in
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