How to Get Rich in One Hour


Here’s what you do:

Take county road 4 about three miles until you see the old logging road just past the bridge over Caney Creek.  Leave your car parked at the entrance, because it has been at least 30 years since this road has been driven. There is a path of sorts on the right side. Deer, like cows and people, are creatures of habit — they take the path of least resistence, so the trail is worn smooth. You will have to contend with blackberry and green-briar, so bring a walking stick if you have one.  Watch your feet. It’s warm and they’re crawling.  Full of venom, too, after a winter of mostly being holed-up.

The trail follows the ridge about a half mile.  When you get to a big white oak (you’ll know, because it’s the only really big tree on the trail) look for a rusted-out 55 gallon drum just to the left of the tree.  About 20 yards south of the drum you will see an old piece of pink flagging tape on a sweetgum tree.  Walk due south from there, downhill until you hear the creek.

Just before you get to the creek, about thirty yards back before the switch-cane starts to get thick, is where you’ll find the rock I left for you.  Big as a basketball, that rock.  You can’t miss it.  I hauled it down there from the old chimney on the next ridge.

The money’s buried under the rock in one of those blue plastic bins like they sell at Walmart — the kind that women put winter clothes in before they put them in the attic.

You owe me one.  Now get moving.



Easter Weekend


The weather is good in the U.S. Nice weekend to hop a very expensive tax-payer-funded flight to a private golf course for a couple of rounds. As Tom Petty once sang: “It’s good to be king.”

Citizens of the once greatest nation will hunt Easter eggs and maybe go to church. Some will read the paper and be outraged about phoney scandals like a pizza place that won’t cater gay weddings.  Lots of pizza at wedding receptions — important stuff, that.

In a place that used to be called Syria, Middle-Aged barbarians will execute anyone who doesn’t follow their god.

In Iran, scientists will continue their quest to create fire from the heavens.  Efforts now fully-sanctioned and blessed by the West.

And in a little corner of the globe, bad-ass Hebrews will polish their swords — patience of Job exhausted.

Happy Easter, y’all.

First Trillium


My first trillium of Spring.

I’m not the botanist that you might expect.  Most of my education and professional time is spent looking up at trees and not down at plants.

But trillium is one that I know.  One that I look for every year.

It’s only there for a bit in Spring.  Easy to spot.  A bit of color on the forest floor before everything bursts forth.  Lovely contrast to dead leaves, and a reminder for me of the hope of renewal.

It’s the little things that represent really big ideas.