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Farewell To A Dream (This is the first in a 4-part blog series)[su_button url=”https://terrywinckler.com/subscribe” target=”self” style=”default” background=”#2D89EF” color=”#FFFFFF” size=”3″ wide=”no” center=”no” radius=”auto” icon=”” icon_color=”#FFFFFF” text_shadow=”none” desc=”” onclick=”” rel=”” title=”” id=”” class=””]Subscribe[/su_button] For 3 years I had a dream commute: a ferry ride between the island of Alameda and the emerald

  Help me out, friends. My 18-year-old son Casey was sucker-punched yesterday by Trump’s assault on two national monuments: Bears Ears and Grand Staircase-Escalante. He needs your advice on how to handle this first, devastating blow to his ideals. Casey, a freshman in env. studies at Univ. of Montana, spent

I expected the rejection letter and put this notation at the top of my to-do list for last Thursday, when I knew it would arrive: “Weep, then move on.” Instead, when the rejection came, I went back to bed, pleased that the morning was gray as my mood. Thirty seven

I was cleaning a spider web off the mailbox last week when its angry builder popped out of a crack and glared at me with all eight eyes. Spiders usually win staring contests with me, but not this time… not after what happened this summer. I fought a bigger, better

“I SAW YOU KICK THAT DOG!” My hand froze on the open door of “Feel Good,” a bakery shop that my wife and dog and I had walked to with happy expectations. “You should be ashamed!” I turned to see the glaring face of my accuser, a white-haired woman standing