Parker Owens

Could not agree more. Where is the ogre of a big brother when you need him? And why is Woody so blind to Jeff and Lucas, and maybe even Ross?

An exciting and engaging story. I enjoyed reading it; and I’m glad at the way you brought strands together.

Awesome story, tim. I wondered over and over if this was a prank or misdirection, or if Jack really was the murderer. I was kept guessing time and again, even as I enjoyed every line. And, of course, I loved the names you chose. Thank you!

I love this story. Principal Tidwell clearly did not understand Rogelio or her school community, or indeed her civic community at large. Rogelio speaks for me about the shame of those who’ve sold their votes and souls, and about the certainty of their passing from the scene. There is good and hopeful reason to fight back.

Oh, Alex, silly boy. You took the money. Look out, you’re on a slippery slope with Brandon, especially as you now remember Jeremy. Great chapter!

Good morning everyone. Just finished clearing 9” of new snow... more on the way. I am betwixt snow squalls, I think.

We all knew this would happen. Now it’s time to resolve it. You bring these two men together so easily, don’t let them fall apart so easily.

That was written so well. You give us your list of regrets, but then why unfolds. Thank you.

Good morning everyone. Snowing hard here. Safe warm day to each and all.

Thank you for writing as you do. You are both eloquent and thoughtful as you observe your days. I send you hugs tonight.

I will probably have a range of reactions, and this is my first. Assuming most students are going to the review sessions and taking preparation seriously, it sounds like either the prof or the department are trying to communicate something with these marks. As in: “Physics is brutal, get used to it.” I use a similar marking rubric in Calculus; it’s pretty straightforward to get middling credit, and full marks aren’t impossibly difficult to come by. Most of the time, the results are statistically what I’d expect: a few high and low marks, and a bunch in the C+ to B- range. Some schools have sorting courses, which try to weed out students viewed as unprepared or unserious. I don’t like that idea. Lots of students are underprepared, and still more simply think in ways significantly different from the ways department members may have learned. Sorry. Long winded answer...

How wonderful you enjoyed this! Beau and George will enjoy their stars, and maybe all of Christmas too. Your very kind words make me smile.

No. It cannot and must not be forgotten. One wonders how long Eric survived, and how his own life’s trajectory went. You paint it so well.

I thought this was very powerful. I felt the waves of the storm you sailed through.

It would still make a great song. The tune will come one day. Very lovely.

If this experience of fear passing through is of continuing value to you, then this entry I shall mark with a bit of celebration.

Ooooh! I guessed it! I’m grinning from ear to ear. As it happens, your prof does some things in different order than I do, but who cares? It’s great fun to tackle all this fun stuff. I only wish I could take the course with you - one always gets a new angle on teaching when you do something you know with a new teacher or approach. Will be thinking of you!

Thank you, Mac! This is a great link!

How wonderful you saw it too! This was one of those transcendent moments, so beautiful to hold in memory. I’m very glad you think it worked.

Wasn’t it amazing? I could not keep from staring out the window, the world all shades of blue and silver and black. I hope the poem is better than any possible photo, and I am glad we could share it.

How can incandescent light compete with something so lovely, so rare? I sat and gazed out at the snow and shadow; that memory will be permanently etched in my mind. I’m glad you got to see it too.

I like the phrase “Beaver Moon.” Where does it come from? I’m glad so many of us got to see this incredible gift of light in the night. Like you, I could not think of going to bed.

Tonight the full moon is shining through the windows. It’s five degrees out, and the snow is like facets of precious stones. I dare not turn on the lights to disturb this wonder. Wild shadows crafted by the moonlight reach across my snow covered rooftop, arching and bending like dancers etched in crystal, black against the sparkling first powder that generous winter left last night.

I grieve that you feel such pain, that you hurt as you have described. You are remembered and supported and encouraged from this tiny corner of the world, and from many, many others.

Oh, Woody, Woody, you need to get into a big fight with Jon, who trashes your camera. Get away from that computer before it devours you. You’re building the tension too well.