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In 1958 my parents loaded up their 1957 Buick station wagon and pulled a 14–ft. Aljo travel trailer on the first of many road trip adventures with our family. The destination was the great Northwest. My dad, who was born in Bellingham, Washington, was like a salmon who had to migrate to the place of his birth. I was nine years old and I had never seen the ocean. I will never forget our first experience at some state park in Oregon, where I was introduced to tidal pools. They teamed with starfish, crabs, little fish and about anything else…

I have been thinking about the words nice and kind for the last 45 years. It all started when a man who was a member at Central Christian Church in Pueblo, sported a bumper sticker that said—“Niceness is kind of Nice”. It’s a decent thought on first blush, but the problem I had with this display, was that guy was one of the meanest men I’ve ever met in church. Since that time in the early 80’s I push back from the word nice. “Oh she is so nice, they are nice, that was nice, etc.”. I decided after this…

The pandemic of 2020 has been part of our history for five years. Travel was an integral part of my life until then. My dad Bill died 25 years ago today. To say I was privileged is an understatement. He made sure that we saw the world. By the time I was 18, I had been to 24 states and 14 countries. I had planned, by the time I hit 75, to have visited all 50 states and all the continents. Then came Covid. Worse, the next year Covid caught me and nearly took me out. For the last three…

The inpouring of memories that keep coming this time of year—keep it up! I was listening to some friends talking about the various things their families shared, that only seemed to come at Christmas. My mom was half Swedish. Her father was raised on a farm near Essex, Iowa, by immigrant parents who came to the US to farm. She would often tell stories of a wooden Christmas tree that would be decorated with candles that were lit on Christmas Eve. My kid mind wondered how they never burned the house down. Occasionally, she would share a song in Swedish…

Last night, a friend asked me “Did your mom put baking soda in her peanut brittle as she was stirring it”? My answer was “No, Birdie made our peanut brittle”. It will be 66 years ago tomorrow—December 22nd, that Birdie came into our familie’s life. It was a Monday morning and my dad had written on the kitchen chalk board “Congratulations—You have a brand new baby brother—Donald Paul Pumphrey”. I was met in the kitchen by a woman I had been introduced to a couple of weeks before. Her name was Georgianna Bird, she went by Birdie. She became our…

One of the many joys of growing up in Belmont, was that a 10 year old Mark could walk four blocks to the corner of Yorktown and Horseshoe, and ride a bus all the way downtown, for a dime. I suspect I did this dozens of times, as the YMCA was on the corner of 8th and Main, just over the 8th Street bridge. Tonight I am remembering one particular outing that was prompted by the song “Silver Bells”. It was probably the first Saturday of Christmas break and I decided to go ‘downtown’ by myself. It was an overcast…

This is the year that we sold our fake tree, tons of lights, assorted snow men and whatever we could pass off as no longer being used. It’s “Christmas light” at the Pumphreys. Our house is now adorned with a small nativity, an18 inch fake tree, an ornament hanger that has seven of our most beautiful orbs and the tree featured in the photo. I grew up in a home that was iconic in it Christmas warmth. Of course, living in a large Cape Cod style home where knotty pine and a fireplace framed every scene, helped. My parents had…

I am not much of a shopper. Actually, my approach to shopping is more like going hunting: go get it, bag it, get out. It took me two minutes to buy my “Rollater” on Amazon. Red or blue was the only question. Two days later there it was. Recently, a good friend, who also grew up in Pueblo, sent me a piece of nostalgia—see the photo—an old add promoting Halloween items at the Pueblo Duckwalls. For those of you who have never heard of Duckwalls, think Five and Dime, or in today’s world, The Dollar Store. Growing up in Belmont…

About a week ago the meteorologists who occupy our various news stations, began the “Get ready its coming”—hype. Every day the drumroll for the possibility of something very normal happening inflates every news broadcast. I have a suspicion that what raises their ratings, is raising our anxiety over “when will it come, how much will it be”? I do appreciate a bit of a heads up, as I make whatever plans occupy my underutilized ‘weekly dance card’. Then… let it snow… or not. I have been doing a lot of what I remember my own parents doing… remembering events from…

I have a confession to make. Today as I was making my usual Saturday morning drive to downtown Denver for a weekly meeting, I went channel surfing on Sirius. That is nothing egregious, however, my eye was caught by “Holiday Traditions” and I went for the bait. Mind you, I am the guy who goes on my personal rants when I go to Sam’s and I see Christmas trees, lights, etc., in early October. My rule has been: no Christmas music until after Thanksgiving. I am not sure what came over me but I thought surely they can’t be playing…