A few nights ago while thumbing through my Facebook feed, I saw that my friend Megan Krome had shared someone’s post. I clicked—and what I read shocked me. Megan’s mom, Elaine Muirhead Hagebush, had died. The impact of her death didn’t really hit me until the next morning. Elaine, you Read more…
I’m nearing the end of my long, literary journey, having driven more than 2,500 miles to date, from West Virginia to Arizona, and complete strangers have turned into new friends, as I stop and smell the roses – both literally and figuratively. The roses, you see, are the people I Read more…
That’s some powerful positive thinking going on, and it’s what one reader told me in a message a couple of days ago. Oddly enough, I woke up this morning feeling the same way, that belief having taken root in my brain. I sat up in bed and realized that today Read more…
Drum roll, please, for my newest book cover! If you’ve read Sister of Silence, you might recall that I ended my memoir on a cliffhanger. I promise, it was not intentional. Many readers later wrote, asking what happened after I left “Eddie”—because I simply didn’t say. I was so focused Read more…
Years ago when I published The Deputy for West Virginia police officers, a question arose about what would be considered newsworthy. At the time, the board of directors chose to let me have the final say over editorial content. When a fellow officer was later charged with DUI, I chose Read more…
Welcome to winter in all its glory: snow and ice and subzero temperatures when the wind chill decides to kick in, as it did most of the last week—and as it’s sure to do again. Accompanying these feats of the elements are frozen pipes and broken furnaces or, if you Read more…
MORGANTOWN, W.Va. — I was alone for three minutes and thirty-six seconds today before someone else came along. That, ladies, is more than long enough to be raped. I was walking beneath South High Street, making my way along the rail-trail toward the Pleasant Street bridge, where one of two Read more…
Robin Williams is dead. He left behind a world of grief, even though 99.9-percent of us never met him. We knew him, though, as much as we can possibly “know” anyone through a lifetime of work. All of this grieving is about losing Mork, Mrs. Doubtfire, Patch Adams, and My Read more…
It couldn’t be more ironic if we had been reading lines from a script. Today’s early morning drive along Route 7 was pleasant enough, as I wound my way from Morgantown, W.Va., to Kingwood. It even included a serene interlude with an old friend at a Reedsville café. From there Read more…
Sometimes they’re angry and sometimes they’re sad. Many times they simply want to ask if I’m happy now. Or say they hope I am. These are my readers, and they are men. They are the men who read my memoir, Sister of Silence. Not a few of them were once Read more…