Why are we obsessed with being entertained? G.K. Chesterton said, "There are no dreary sights; there are only dreary sight seers.” I wonder if he had Kansas critics in mind.
She remembered skinny, sexy Elvis and I remembered paunchy Elvis in the jumpsuit and cape who starred in campy movies. Hearing him sing those spiritual songs was a chance to reconsider someone I thought I’d known.
Before the end of the first week on my first cross-country camping trip, my bike tipped over twice. It took me 6000 miles and two windshields to learn how to pack.
Just as we were loading out, the llama went into his guard mode, stamping and making a sound that I can't describe (but which you can hear on the podcast -- just hit the button). Coyote alert!
Many of them resembled human figures, and although I had no idea of their significance, they gave me the sense that I was part of an infinite whole, transcending the limits of time.
I couldn’t get enough of the retired zookeeper's stories about spitting snakes and reluctant-to-mate primates; one of my childhood fantasies was zookeeping!
Imagine being in a forest of sewing needles soaring thousands of feet above your head. You'd feel like a “Who” in Dr. Seuss’s classic book "Horton Hears A Who," wouldn't you?