Jane Little Botkin
Have you ever been to a wine tasting? You sip a delicious Shiraz and next want to try a Sangiovese. But before you can move on to the next wine, you must rinse the taste out of your mouth with a sip of water, or the two flavors will meld, giving a false impression. In other words, you…
Read MoreSince I am about to resume work on my new book, Jane Street and the Housemaid Rebellion: Sex, Syndicalism, and Denver’s Capitol Hill, I am re-posting a blog from my Chasing Rabbits page at www.franklittleandtheiww.net. Later I will break down this title for readers. It sounds nasty, doesn’t it? I will say this, if the “Me, Too”…
Read MoreOn my way home from Lander, Wyoming, after a horrible start, so bad that I questioned the wisdom in flying out last week. My Southwest Airlines flight took off an hour and half late because someone got the emergency exit door stuck. My connection in Denver was a charter flight to Riverton, WY. Instructions were…
Read MoreI email Bump Boedeker’s bronc image to Sarah. I hope the new discovery peaks her interest in her heritage. Cowboys may not impress her much; after all, she is a Wyoming girl where Steamboat is imprinted on everything except the state flag. (Steamboat is Wyoming’s ubiquitous bucking bronc logo.) And like my son, she attended…
Read MoreTaking care of a dying person is draining, but I can fend off depression by concentrating on the Boedeker family. This tack triggers another realization, adding guilt to my panoply of emotions. I realize that I am a voyeur, my mind’s eye loupe is peering into their lives without permission. Should I tell Sarah? I…
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The Best Part of a Story Is When It Changes
My mom died. It is a strange feeling being an orphan at my age. I am uncomfortable with the void I feel. I talked to her every day for the last twenty-three years. She had been diagnosed with lung cancer in January. Four months later, gone. One of my best fans, gone. Of course, I…
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