When you’re a backcountry loner like I am, bad publicity is the best publicity.
It’s important to make a few things perfectly clear right up front, if for no other reason than, by and large, horse people are generally far better armed than I am.
Out of the discourse wreckage, somehow I began talking about the family farm, my stepfather and my upbringing there in the mosquito-and-poison-ivy-infested swamp country where America was born.
It is not often that one has the opportunity to actually bear witness to a phobic reaction being played out right before one’s very eyes.
I was in Valdez, Alaska, to report a story this past March when something odd kept happening. Every time I learned of another potential source, the person telling me I should talk to such-and-such a person didn’t offer a cell phone number or an e-mail address or, in most cases, a home phone number. They … Continue reading Dropping By
Tack would talk about winter nights speeding through the farmlands of Pennsylvania, careening across blue ice toward bare trees in the headlights when he told his mother, “Don’t be surprised if I don’t make it home.” The pigs whose throats he slit, chickens he chopped and a cow he shot, “the first bullet bounced off … Continue reading Talismans
The boy crouches over a pad of paper and a scattering of colored pencils. He looks out a window, takes a breath and begins to draw. A mountain takes shape on the page — a triangle with a white cap, blue slopes, and a range of green foothills. He shakes his head, rips the paper … Continue reading Ballad of Francois, le Conducteur D’Autobus
Editor’s note: This is yet another story by Richard Barnum-Reece, whose obituary, penned by Dave Baldridge, we ran in our March 2010 issue (MG #165), as part of a loosely aggregated feature package titled “Mentors.” This piece previously appeared in Barnum-Reece’s self-published book, “The Gonzo File” (undated, c. 1978-1980), which consisted of a mix of … Continue reading Skiing Nude
The hunger comes before I know my name or where I am. This appetite may be the story of my life but my life is not much of a story. The hunger is greater than I have been or will be. This hunger is the thing driving me and flogging me. I am born between … Continue reading Blood Winter
Jukebox Heroes Story and photo by Dawne Belloise “Ninety-nine percent of the world’s lovers are not with their first choice. That’s what makes the jukebox play.” — Willie Nelson Back in Black screams to a deafening reverberation across the wooden floor, pumping barflies and hopefuls into a rhythmic raising of glasses to mouths. They stand … Continue reading Jukebox Heroes