HOHENSCHWANGAU, BAVARIA — Ludwig Otto Friedrich Wilhelm — aka King Ludwig II— had several nicknames: the Fairy King, the Swan King and, my favorite, the Mad King. He also held several dukedoms, but we won’t get into that.
He ascended to the Bavarian throne, in what is now southern Germany, in 1866, at the age of 18.
Ludwig had little interest in ruling over his country. He was introverted and showed scant concern in governmental matters, which quickly led to tensions with Bavaria’s ministers. The Mad King possessed two passions: building lavish castles and the German composer Richard...
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Not long after we moved to Longview in June 1968, my paternal grandfather took us to dinner at Wyatt’s Cafeteria, which anchored a shopping center on High Street just off downtown, the same center where Tatum Music is today. He was newly widowed (but not for long — the man liked having a wife). We lived with him in his ranch-style house in Greggton until my parents could find a home to buy. (Greggton was initially known as Willow Springs, founded around 1873 as a railway stop. The name was changed in the early 1930s during the oil boom. A few miles west of downtown Longview, it was annexed...
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A four-legged terrorist now inhabits our home.
It took a day or so to produce a name for the orange-striped rescue kitty that we took in from our veterinarian’s office, where he spent two long months recuperating from injuries so severe that they ought he might lose his leg. But an extended stay in close confinement allowed him to heal. When the call went out for anyone interested in adopting him, we quickly volunteered. Sadly, we lost Tater, our giant orange tabby, in February. We thought Olive, our other cat, would like the company. She has been morose since Tater died of cancer.
The...
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Willie and Waylon have joined the clan of critters here at Three Geese Farm. With our four laying hens named Loretta Lynn, Dolly Parton, Patsy Cline, and June Carter Cash, we now have a barnyard-and-bovine band. Willie and Waylon are Longhorn steer calves, about six months old. They were a 70th birthday gift from my Beautiful Mystery Companion.
The gift was not exactly a surprise. We had gone down to a farm near Cleveland, just north of Houston, in early April to pick them out while they were still being nursed by their mamas. (They are not brothers but part of the same herd.) Their arrival...
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Last in a series about returning to my native New England
BOSTON — We spent our final two vacation days in Back Bay, our favorite part of Boston, because it is close to most of the attractions to which we invariably return. We can either walk or take the T, the city’s efficient and safe subway system.
Our home base is the venerable Lenox Hotel, which opened in 1900 in Copley Square, on the corner of Essex and Boylston streets. The finish line for the Boston Marathon is painted on the pavement less than a block away. I have been staying at the Lenox off and on, during trips to Boston for more...
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Latest in a series after a recent trip to my native New England
CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS — We are searching for the tomb of an old friend in the lush beauty of Mount Auburn Cemetery, established in 1831, a few miles outside of Cambridge. From its higher points, the Boston skyline is visible across the Charles River.
We came back to Mount Auburn, which we first visited in 2009, to try to find the family tomb of Isabella Stewart Gardner. I called her an old friend because that is how Gardner feels to us, this amazing woman who used her family wealth — and that of her willing husband — to acquire...
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I met Phil Latham in July 1989 when interviewing for a job at the Lufkin Daily News. At the time, I was working unhappily as editor and publisher of the Fort Stockton Pioneer. That part of West Texas didn’t suit me, though some fine people lived there. When I watched a tumbleweed the size of a Volkswagen Beetle come tumbling down the central street downtown, I knew it was time to leave.
So, I called Joe Murray, then editor and publisher of the Lufkin paper, saying I would take anything to get back to East Texas. He put me in touch with Phil, then his managing editor, who told me to make the long...
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CONCORD, MASSACHUSETTS — After five days of unseasonably warm weather, at last we have been rewarded on a brilliant Saturday with near-perfect temperatures in the 70s, just in time for a nice hike along Walden Pond, a few miles outside this quaint town of nearly 20,000. I was born 60 miles north in Concord, New Hampshire. This is my first visit to its Bay State counterpart, incorporated in 1775 and celebrating its 250th birthday this year. The Granite State Concord is a decade older and sports about twice as many residents. Neither town is exactly a metropolis.
Walden Pond gained its fame...
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First in a series from my native New England.
AUBURNDALE, MASSACHUSETTS — The small towns circling Boston meld seamlessly into each other, often in a matter of blocks, one weather-beaten city limits sign after another. The place we booked is allegedly in Newton but shows up as Auburndale in our maps app. I went on a walk just after sunrise the other day as my Beautiful Mystery Companion and daughter Abbie slept. I discovered where Purgatory Cove, which laps up against the backyard of our Airbnb rental, feeds into the Charles River. I went from Auburndale to Newton in a matter of steps. Suddenly,...
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I maintain a small Red Sox shrine near my desk, acquired over the years. There’s a Mr. Potato Head in uniform, holding a baseball glove in his right hand and a ball in his left. I was a left-handed baseball player, both batting and throwing, even though I do everything else right-handed — eating, playing tennis. That is why my Mr. Potato Head Red Sox guy is also left-handed. His arms are detachable.
A Big Papi bobblehead doll resides in the shrine. David Ortiz was a key player in the 2004 championship season that ended an 86-year World Series drought for the Red Sox. He went on to help the team...
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