Stories from an Idaho Kid

It was a submachine gun; light in the hand and touting an impressive 500 rounds per minute.  With black plastic cold as real steel, a blazi...

“Steel, Sergeant, United States Army, 3-44-44-33.” I sat with my back against the concrete wall behind my family’s car port; my arms str...

I had been sitting in the same chair for two hours, and I was only two thirds of the way through my once a week Intro to American History c...

I was a solider.  Well mostly.  Sometimes I was a pirate or a lone cowboy sheriff defending my small town from a gang of bandits.  Typicall...

Quiz day in my Religious History class. Typically a piece of cake, but that day I was stumped on two questions: 1) Name the centurion w...

Dull yellow light from moth-covered fixtures poured across the barren playground at McSorely Elementary School.  Stars blinked in the night...