As a child growing up in Montana, I imagined my cowboy grandpa’s life to be as inspiring and majestic as the mountains around me. I was wrong. Continue reading
Tag Archives: Montana
Stealing in Seattle
I was raised to work hard – physically in caring for what I own – and mentally, in the work I do every day. When others ruin or take away what you love – it is stealing in Seattle. Continue reading
Aging / Connecting / Family / Relationships
Before I was born, you knew me
Before I was born, you knew me. You sang lullabies to me, still unborn. You memorized my kicks, my restlessness. Wept with joy in hope, and wept with fear in despair: how to feed this unexpected mouth? Your first baby died – you were just 22… Continue reading
White-trash garlic bread
I can’t get no satisfaction. I grew up wanting more, and why not? It was my culture. Even the Rolling Stones’ Mick Jagger wailed dissatisfaction over a girl dissatisfied with him. But why? Blame it on TV… Continue reading
The last road trip: eulogy for my father
{Note: I wrote this on the flight to his funeral, after my dad died February 18, 2012.} Arthur Holter Born: Montana. Died: Wisconsin. Forever Home: Montana. May the circle be unbroken. My dad loved road trips. He died talking about them. There it is: that corded telephone. Dad was chatting with my older sister … Continue reading
The view from home, Seattle
Speechless. We are all speechless. In all my time in Seattle, never a sunset like this… Continue reading
Dog bones & relationships
Dog bones and Thanksgiving–what’s the connection? It’s the meatiness of solid relationships – not wispy, virtual ones – that are most satisfying… Continue reading
Stealing Easter
Growing up in Montana, Good Friday was an often snowy, three-hour noontime service, “Seven Last Words From the Cross.” We got the day off from elementary school for such religious things back then. (Yes, I lived in ancient times.) Impressionable, I’d shed a tear as our Lutheran pastor whispered those first words from the cross: “Father, forgive them…” … Continue reading
A lasting gift
My dad died suddenly a few weeks after all this happened. It turned out to be my last story for him, my last gift to him…. a lasting gift.
Continue reading
