Thank you for reminding me how much I used to enjoy the open road (odometer total: 600,000 miles on two pickup trucks), and stopping at small town cafes and truck-stop restaurants from Seattle to Missoula to New Mexico to Nashville. I rode along with you up Route 200 along the Blackfoot River. I used to live in a tiny cabin across the swinging bridge, just across the river from what used to be the Blackfoot Tavern. And any mention of Lincoln reminds me that my doppelganger, the Unabomber, lived in a tiny cabin up that way. I was the good guy with the 30-pound black steel Royal typewriter pounding out my good-guy manifesto. Finally, hello to Mark Gibbons. Last September I sat across from him at a table for eight, and after dinner the wine inspired him to recite one of his poems in performance-art fashion. The wine inspired me to follow Mark with my rendition of Missoula poet Patrick Todd reciting "Hay for the Horses" by Gary Snyder.
Mark's book of poetry, "In the Weeds," sits right in front of me, on top of my dead printer.
Gorgeous writing, as always. I am always curious about where people eat and what they’re eating and who shares meals with whom -- thanks for bringing us along with you. Also, that’s quite a bear, and quite a Dad too, I’m sure.
On a more somber note, I’m very worried about the flooding in Montana & Yellowstone. I hope you and your loved ones are safe. Looking forward to hanging out on Thursday.
You have so many wonderful events coming up. Wonderful!
I love the photo of your dad. I am so happy that you have a lasting memory of that drive you shared together.
I’m certain that the patron of the restaurant appreciates and depends on those handicap designated spaces as well as his social security check. I know that I do! Too bad that more citizens don’t consider the origins of these lifesavers. It continually amazes me that people are willing to vote against themselves.
Chris, enjoy every emerald vista and every sapphire sky.
Just discovered the outdoor sculpture park near your favorite over the divide eatery. Enchanting place to stretch the legs, though I really hate the name of the most prominent feature.
Thank you for reminding me how much I used to enjoy the open road (odometer total: 600,000 miles on two pickup trucks), and stopping at small town cafes and truck-stop restaurants from Seattle to Missoula to New Mexico to Nashville. I rode along with you up Route 200 along the Blackfoot River. I used to live in a tiny cabin across the swinging bridge, just across the river from what used to be the Blackfoot Tavern. And any mention of Lincoln reminds me that my doppelganger, the Unabomber, lived in a tiny cabin up that way. I was the good guy with the 30-pound black steel Royal typewriter pounding out my good-guy manifesto. Finally, hello to Mark Gibbons. Last September I sat across from him at a table for eight, and after dinner the wine inspired him to recite one of his poems in performance-art fashion. The wine inspired me to follow Mark with my rendition of Missoula poet Patrick Todd reciting "Hay for the Horses" by Gary Snyder.
Mark's book of poetry, "In the Weeds," sits right in front of me, on top of my dead printer.
Gorgeous writing, as always. I am always curious about where people eat and what they’re eating and who shares meals with whom -- thanks for bringing us along with you. Also, that’s quite a bear, and quite a Dad too, I’m sure.
On a more somber note, I’m very worried about the flooding in Montana & Yellowstone. I hope you and your loved ones are safe. Looking forward to hanging out on Thursday.
I love your writing. I meet a lot of the Long White Beard Society in the Pines, too.
Hi Chris,
You have so many wonderful events coming up. Wonderful!
I love the photo of your dad. I am so happy that you have a lasting memory of that drive you shared together.
I’m certain that the patron of the restaurant appreciates and depends on those handicap designated spaces as well as his social security check. I know that I do! Too bad that more citizens don’t consider the origins of these lifesavers. It continually amazes me that people are willing to vote against themselves.
Chris, enjoy every emerald vista and every sapphire sky.
Sincerely,
Melissa
Just discovered the outdoor sculpture park near your favorite over the divide eatery. Enchanting place to stretch the legs, though I really hate the name of the most prominent feature.
Chris, when you get a spare 10 minutes you might enjoy this article.
https://indiancountrytoday.com/opinion/the-lost-poems-of-wilma-mankiller?utm_source=Sailthru&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Lit%20Hub%20Weekly:%20June%204%2C%202022&utm_term=lithub_weekly_master_list