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Tom Stoppard Is Dead, Long Live Tom Stoppard
There’s a hole in my heart. Slowly, inexorably, depressingly, one by one, my literary heroes pass away. The latest, Tom Stoppard, generally regarded as the greatest living English playwright, died November 29, 2025, at age 88. And before him, Tom Wolfe (2018), Terry Teachout (2022), and Paul Johnson (2023). Tom Stoppard had a way with…
Of the Big Lake, They Call Gitche Gumee
Growing up on the West Coast, the Pacific Ocean was our natural draw. During my early years, before memories even formed, our family made its annual summer trek to Grayland. We always stayed in the same 12-room motel, a long walk across sandy dunes and scattered beach grass to glimpse the ocean, which was still…
Tony Kombol’s Fateful Day
Growing up in the extended Kombol clan meant at least four family gatherings each year – Easter, Father’s Day, Fourth of July, and Christmas Eve. Occasionally, there was a wedding, an anniversary, or a Sunday assemblage added to the mix. Grandma (Lulu) and Papa (Tony) had five children. For me, that meant four sets of…
Spring Fever, Cedar River Boat Racing, & Bob Morris
The spring quarter of college, 1975, was upon me. I needed one more credit to graduate. A new life was opening after 17 years of schooling. I had no interest in grad school, getting a job, or even thinking about one. My ambition was to embrace a newfound freedom and focus on learning outside the…
My Living Theater
April 1975 – the final quarter of college and the end of 17 years of schooling. My afternoon job at Rogers No. 3 coal mine conveniently came to an end. Six months of 17-hour days driving from Enumclaw to Seattle, attending classes at U.W., studying, then on to Ravensdale for eight hours of grimy work,…
March Fourth With Uncle Joe
I was blessed with eight fine aunts and uncles. There were no divorces among them. Collectively the eight couples logged 430 years of marriage. I was particularly fond of uncles, as a boy often is. They bore names that belong to the Greatest Generation: Jack, Frank, Charlie, Bernell, Chester, Joe, George, and Evan. Each influenced…
A Farewell to Mike
It was a dark and stormy night. Coastal rains pounded the Oregon Coast. STOP! Mike Wickre would have ridiculed this opening, but Mike Wickre is gone, so I’ll write it my way, mindful of his dismissive wisecracks from beyond. With little notice, an old friend passes away. A Facebook message warned of Mike’s imminent demise. …
Radical Tom Wolfe
“Radical Wolfe” was the last film I expected to watch on a transcontinental flight back east last year. Tom Wolfe died nearly six years ago, and airline movie selections rarely feature thoughtful documentaries about revolutionary literary figures. Passengers want comfort-food entertainment to better digest crummy airline food. Movie thrillers, rom-coms, and music videos offer what…
Lois Olson Remembered
“You just lost the best friend you ever had.” That’s what a friend told me shortly after my own mom died some years ago. Mrs. Olson, Jon, and Jim joined me at her funeral. They’ve asked me to speak on their behalf about the memories we’ve shared of Lois Robertson Olson, who passed peacefully at…
Your Vote Counts, But It Doesn’t Matter
Elections come and go, but one peculiar fact remains – your vote counts, but it doesn’t matter – to the outcome that is. There it is, I said it. Leagues of Women Voters, good-government advocates, and the civically virtuous, precious right-to-vote crowd will gasp in horror. But it’s true – your vote will be counted,…
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