 I meant to observe this website's 10th anniversary in 2021, but the Covid pandemic seemed to put the kibosh on that for a number of reasons. If you have time, feel free to browse the six tabs or pages by clicking on the links below. Each one sports a new look and updated information.
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A short message to let my readers know that my photograph will appear in an exhibit at the Texas Tech University's International Cultural Center. The Works on Paper exhibit features images of human beings in settings from all over the world. Click here for a link to all the particulars. I've posted a copy of my photograph below, but I encourage you to view the other fine photos, if you can. If you live outside West Texas, you can access a virtual gallery of the exhibition. The ICC always hosts such fine events in its spacious gallery, so I hope you can make it. Thanks! RJ  Doorman at El Avenida Palace Hotel — Barcelona, 2017
Coming Next:
FRI: My Book World | Lone Star Short Stories: Two Books TUES: A Writer's Wit | Marianne Wiggins WEDS: A Writer's Wit | Carroll Quigley THURS: A Writer's Wit | John P. Marquand
For about ten years, I either gave myself a crew cut or shaved my head. At the beginning of the Covid Pandemic, March 19, 2020, I gave up and began to grow my hair again—to what length I wasn't sure. It seems that every few months I was dealing with a new hair style. Don't worry, I've never left the house looking like Martha Grahame (bottom row, second from left) or Christopher Lloyd (bottom row, third from the left). Never will. COMING NEXT:
TUES: AWW | Amy Jo Martin WEDS: AWW | Josh Elliott THURS: AWW | Eleanor Clift FRIDAY: My Book World | Robert Long Foreman's Weird Pig
Writing a Family History | memoir I Usually when I decide not to post for any length of time I give my readers a heads up, but this time I forgot. I offer my apologies to those who’ve missed me. To those who haven’t, meh. :) So where have I been? On February 3, I arrived once again at Hacienda María on the grounds of the Native American Seed Company near Junction, Texas—and didn't return home until February 29. Although the company’s main agenda is to raise and sell native grass and wildflower seeds worldwide, they also offer two dwellings as part of their eco-tourism enterprise. Cool River Cabin is located down in the valley and a bit closer to the Llano River, where one can kayak and canoe. For the third time now, I’ve stayed in the Hacienda, a beautiful sort of mini-villa high atop a ridge overlooking the verdant fields and woods of the farm and river valley. My first morning there, a fog rose from the river and engulfed everything in its mist. Each day I hiked at least twice, once in the morning and again in the afternoon, in order to reach my goal of 10,000 steps. Now I didn’t go just for the gorgeous, pastoral environment, but went there to finish a book I’ve been working on since 2016. Each of the three visits to Hacienda, I’ve toiled steadily through each day, seven days a week, to bring this tome to its conclusion, anywhere from five to seven hours a day—and yet it is still not done (I keep those same hours when I work at home). I chose to watch little TV (two films, Judy and Jojo Rabbit), didn’t necessarily carry my phone with me or play music. February was a beautiful month in the Hill Country. When I partook of my five o’clock constitutional, I would often enjoy it out on the patio in a breezeless seventy-degree weather. The nights were cool to mild, the days mild to warm. Only one cold, rainy spell kept me indoors for half a day. Groceries are a ten-minute drive into Junction itself, a Lowe’s. And if you have enough gumption to go further south, Kerrville has a CVS, an H-E-B, and a Walmart—about a fifty-minute drive on I-10. So what did I work on? I guess I’d call it a family memoir. How about I tell you more next time! Before you leave, check out my photographs below. TOMORROW: Writing a Family History | Memoir II
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the thirty-first post of fifty. South Carolina (1990-1992, 1994) R. Jespers, Brookgreen G., 1994 Because Ken’s nephew and wife lived in Myrtle Beach, we were able to visit a number of interesting places: Brookgreen Gardens at Murrells Inlet, Myrtle Beach State Park, and an overnighter in Charleston, one of the nation’s oldest cities, where we visited several historical homes being renovated following Hurricane Andrew, in 1992. The specter of slavery still looms large in places: plantations and slaves’ quarters. Then there is the human specter, descendants of those slaves, some of whom still struggle to achieve equality with whites. During those four summer visits, we also spent a great deal of time just enjoying ourselves at places like Barefoot Landing in North Myrtle Beach. South Carolina is eighth of the thirteen original colonies and also celebrated its bicenquinquagenaryin 2013. Historical Postcards & Trunk DecalsIf you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on a link: NEXT TIME: My Book World, White Rage by C. Anderson
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the twenty-ninth post of fifty. Hawaii (1977, 1996)  I first visited Hawaii in 1977, my most momentous journey since I’d begun teaching in 1974, the ten-day vacation being the first I’d ever spent alone. I borrowed $750 from the credit union, and I figured I would do a lot of sightseeing and reading at the beach. On the third day, however, I met a number of young men at a bar, Hula’s, and we palled around for the remainder of the trip.           The second time, in 1996, Ken and I celebrated our twentieth year together by taking a cruise among the islands. The now defunct cruise line had purchased the SS Independence and SS Constitution. The Independence held about six hundred passengers, a crew of three hundred. It may have been the most carefree trip we’d ever taken in our lives. Once aboard the ship, you had few worries, few decisions to make. You could stay on board during all the stops, or you could take excursions. At the end of both trips, I felt as if I never wanted to go home. I imagine that many visitors and residents never want to leave, as well. Hawaii became the fiftieth state in 1959, when I was eleven years old. Historical Postcard If you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on a link: NEXT TIME: My Journey of States-30 Georgia
I recently had the privilege of attending a high school reunion in which we celebrated the fact that we were all born during the 1947-1948 span of time, which now makes us SEVENTY years old! Below I feature a slideshow of a few of the photographs I made of our Class of '66 reunion. On Friday, October 12, we met at Minisa Park in Wichita, and on Saturday, we were fortunate enough to gather at the home of one our very own, who happens to live in a dwelling known as The Castle Inn Riverside (or the Campbell Castle). For years it was a B&B run by classmate Paula Langenberg Lowry and her husband, Terry, but it is currently up for sale, should anyone be interested in acquiring a home with real history. Thanks to Paula and Terry for their generosity. Wichita HS South Grads Turn 70Sights of Wichita 2018My Other Alma Mater, SouthwesternNEXT TIME: My Journey of States-26 Wisconsin
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the twenty-first post of fifty. Mississippi (1971, 1994)
I first saw Mississippi in 1971 when I was almost twenty-three years old. The Bahamian woman I’d married had an aunt who lived in Laurel. For spring break we borrowed a friend’s Ford Galaxie station wagon and traversed the five hundred miles on I-20 and a few other roads. My ex-wife’s aunt, a smoker, was so unlike her sister, my mother-in-law, and yet the aunt was similar to my ex-wife in that America also had corrupted her cute little Bahamian accent. But M and I had a cozy double bed to ourselves and as still-newlyweds who couldn’t think of anything better to do, we made good use of it.  The second time I encountered Mississippi was in 1994 when another spouse, Ken, and I drove from Lubbock to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. We stopped long enough in Vicksburg to view the Mississippi River near the famed bridge, and then we were off. I would like to return one day, to find out more about Mississippi's literary figures: Faulkner and Welty, to mention a couple. Mississippi, the twentieth state, celebrated its bicenntenial in 2017. Historical Postcards & Trunk DecalsIf you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on a link: NEXT TIME: My Book World
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the nineteenth post of fifty. California ('67, '77, '78, '97, '06, '08)When I visited California, in 1967, my aunt and uncle lived in Fullerton, Orange County. I was nineteen, and I had been encouraged by my mother to take side trips rather than hang around my aunt’s house all the time. I would negotiate such a concept much better later in life. The three weeks that I was there, my aunt drove me to Whittier to visit a friend I’d made while in college, also an organ student. My sixteen-year-old cousin and I took the train to San Clemente to the beach. And we made a similar trip to Disneyland. Finally, my aunt and uncle lent me their car so I could drive to Long Beach to see the S——s, a family who had once lived two houses south of us on Main Street in Wichita. Mr. S—— worked for a Long Beach newspaper, and Mrs. S—— was a registered nurse. Both of them smoked like chimneys at Christmas. I made it my reading project to finish Jacqueline Susann’s Valley of the Dolls,a summer read if ever there was one. You devour the pages just to see what happens, usually who does whom, only to feel less than satiated when it’s over—like eating a bag of potato chips in less than five minutes.
In the seventies, I visited a couple, the wife of whom I’d gone to high school with. During another trip I stayed with a guy I’d met in Hawaii the summer before. There I got the gist of what my mother had tried to teach me. I made a day-long sojourn out to see the Queen Mary in Long Beach, and three of us guys would drive up the coast to San Francisco to march in one of the first gay pride parades in 1978. I also saw the Hearst Mansion in Big Sur before it became part of the California State Park system; I visited it once again in 1997, making the trip up the mountain three times in one day to see all three tours.  K. Dixon and R. Jespers | Tomales Bay, CA 2006 In 2006 I attended a writers’ conference in Tomales Bay, and two years later I would return to the conference on one evening to hear the keynote speaker, Jane Smiley, a writer whom I admire a great deal. I have a phobia of returning to California. I believe the Big One is slated to happen any time soon, and I just don’t want to chance it. Besides, it is one of those places long on beautiful sights and fabulous weather but also long on two-legged inhabitants, thousands of whom insist on being in the exact spot you would like to be whether it’s a queue to see Bette Midler or a trail in the woods. California became the thirty-first state in 1850, thus celebrating its sesquicentennial in 2000. If you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on a link: NEXT TIME: My Book World
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting important personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the twelfth post of fifty. Virginia (1957, 1959, 1963, 1968, 1973, 1974, 1989, 1990, 1994, 1999, 2010)In Northern Virginia, where my aunt and uncle lived in Fairfax County, it was difficult to separate, at times, Washington DC from the southern nature of its surroundings. The lilting dialects, the Georgian colonial architecture with red bricks and white columns. Even the White House is a southern building. And yet my aunt and uncle were New Yorkers; it seemed like an odd fit. In the dozen times that I’ve been to Washington, I’ve viewed multiple sights multiple times: The Smithsonian Institution (including the Air and Space Museum located a thirty-minute cab ride from DC in Fairfax County), the Capitol, the Washington Monument, Jefferson’s, Lincoln’s, the World War II Memorial, The Vietnam Memorial (I had previously looked up the address of our Wichita neighbor, R. E. Jenkins, who’d been killed at nineteen, as well as the man for who I’d worn a steel MIA bracelet, Stephen Adams, Iowa), Georgetown, Mt. Vernon, the home of former president, Chester A. Arthur (a bed and breakfast where we stayed in 2010), on Logan Circle. The closest I came to the White House was Pennsylvania Avenue, where I took an iPhone picture through the wrought iron fence. I’ve seen both of Thomas Jefferson’s homes, Monticello and the one in western Virginia, Poplar Forest, a three-day trip by horse cart for its original owner. I’ve strolled through the quad at the University of Virginia in Charlottesville, where the Jeffersonian buildings provide space for qualified students to live. ¶ Virginia is tenth of the original colonies, established in 1788. Historical Postcards & Trunk DecalsIf you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on a link: NEXT TIME: My Book World
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting important personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the eleventh post of fifty. Maryland (1957, 1959, 1963) L-R: Lou, Carol, Richard, Victor | 1963 Visit to DC  In 1963, I was fifteen when we visited Aunt Gladys in Washington, DC. My cousin was seventeen, and he and his sophisticated friends invited me to go with them to the beach in Maryland. On our way we stopped in at Nordstrom’s in the Seven Corners shopping center. I watched as my sophisticated cousin and his friends shoplifted identical plaid swim trunks. We rode out in a red Impala convertible, and when the traffic backed up surprisingly, the driver, one of my cousin’s friends, headed for the soft grass median rather than rear-end someone. ¶ At this Maryland beach, my cousin and his friends looked like they all belonged to the same fraternity and flirted with girls older than they were just for the fun of it. I never told my parents what my cousin had done. It was one of those events that advanced your childhood pretty quickly, traveling with delinquents, and you knew you could never go back. ¶ In the Baltimore neighborhood where my aunt and uncle lived in 1957, people attached ceramic cats, mostly black, to the roofs and sides of their homes, perhaps as a way of identifying theirs as they approached it on the street. My dad bought one before leaving for Kansas and it hung on the side of their house in Wichita for over fifty years. ¶ Maryland became seventh of the original thirteen states in 1788. Its bicenquinquagenary was celebrated in 2013. HISTORICAL POSTCARDSIf you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on a link: NEXT TIME: My Book World
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting important personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the tenth post of fifty. West Virginia (1957, 1959, 1963)Our car, accustomed to the prairies of Kansas, labored up the mountains of West Virginia, on our way to and from Aunt Gladys’s place in suburban DC. I recall some delightful cinnamon apple candy that we purchased every time we passed through a certain town (or maybe it was in Virginia). It seemed like a primitive place, but that may not be a child’s observation, but a jaded adult who, to this day, doesn’t like to pee in an outdoor closet that stinks from lye. ¶ Now that West Virginia has joined the Big Twelve, I pay more attention to the state. They’re tough to beat at home, especially when a proud bunch of fans fill up the place to cheer on their Mountaineers. ¶ West Virginia was part of Virginia until 1863, when it was granted its own statehood, making it the thirty-fifth state. In 2013, it celebrated its sesquicentennial. Historical PostcardsIf you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on a link: NEXT TIME: My Book World
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting important personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the ninth post of fifty. Pennsylvania (1957, 1959, 1963)  Barges. Coal. Coal dust. On our 1957 vacation, my family and I spent nearly three days in the mountain town of Brownsville, waiting for our Packard Clipper, a ’55, to be repaired. My mother tried hard to find ways to entertain us while we waited around on repairs that could never be made. She took movies of us running up and down the bank of the Monongahela River, me waving a jaunty striped cap I’d gotten for my ninth birthday. “Run, darn you,” my mother said. “It’s a moving picture.” And run we did, like little fools. The hotel where we stayed was so rife with coal dust that Mother had to wipe down everything (including the toilet seat) before we could sit.  The Jesperses' New 1957 Pontiac and Brother Vic At the end of that brief but drawn-out respite, my parents bought a new 1957 Pontiac, and we broke it in on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. It was one of the oldest in the nation, and the roads were not that well engineered, not near as sleek as the Kansas Turnpike (you could travel at eighty mph), but it was certainly scenic. ¶ Philadelphia is the city where some of my grandmother’s German cousins lived, but when I try to google the address where they lived, it seems that the street must have disappeared or been renamed. It’s as if they never lived. The city is also where my Dutch grandparents landed in the early 1900s. ¶ Pennsylvania is the second of the original thirteen colonies, established in 1787. Over 230 years old! HISTORICAL POSTCARDS If you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on a link: NEXT TIME: My Book World
Dear Fellow Travelers, I offer you my third and final installment of photographs taken during a week in early November 2017 that I spent with you in Barcelona, Spain. Below, please find slide shows exhibiting examples of architecture, art, landscape, black-and-white photographs, flags & signs, and miscellaneous sights. Enjoy! P.S. If you see any identification errors, please leave me a message. I did my best to get things right. ARchitecture, Art, LandscapeBlack-And-White PhotographyFlags and SignsMiscellaneousClick on Barcelona Photographs 1 if you missed that installment. Same for Barcelona Photographs 2. NEXT TIME: My Journey of States-9 Pennsylvania
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting important personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the eighth post of fifty. Ohio (1957, 1959, 1963) On one of my family’s trips east, in 1957, we stayed in a cabin that, I swear, sat on nothing but concrete blocks as its foundation. When semis passed in the night, our little cabin shook like a big bowl of gelatin. In 1968, passing through Columbus in mid-August, the sun was but an orange disk in the sky. ¶ In 1882, my great-grandmother, Catharina Berges, emigrated from Germany and lived for a short time in Canal Dover, Tuscarawas County (later Dover). She then moved with her first husband to Missouri. ¶ Ohio became the seventeenth state in 1803. 1903. 2003. Wow! Historical PhotographsIf you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on link: NEXT TIME: Final Installment of Barcelona Photographs:
Architecture, Art, Landscape, Black-and-White, Flags & Signs
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting important personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the seventh post of fifty. Indiana (1957, 1959, 1963, 1969, 1976, 1994)  Shoals was our first stop when my family drove east in 1959. My father put in a good nine or ten hours of driving—over 650 miles and four states in one day. During that trip—before the interstate highway system was complete—we passed through downtown Indianapolis. My mother took a Super 8 film of the experience, flags billowing off some important building. Hot. Exhaust pouring in the windows of our Pontiac. On the second day, my father would drive through three states in one day (Indiana, Ohio, and West Virginia), and we would think we were making grand time, but we were in the mountains and it took from dawn to dark to drive 550 miles. We were two hours from my aunt and uncle’s home in Falls Church, Virginia. It would be my third trip to Washington, DC, and I was only eleven! In 1969, my college choir performed in South Bend, and I was able to visit with the daughter of one of mother’s high school teachers, Jo Leatherman Perkey, who made a special effort to see our performance. The choir had fun touring the Indy 500 track (above). ¶ Indiana is the nineteenth state. Residents celebrated its bicentennial in 2016. Historical Postcards If you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on link: NEXT TIME: My World of Short Fiction
Dear Fellow Travelers, I offer you the second round of photographs from our November trip to Barcelona. This time I picture primarily the lovely people of that city, from those selling their wares on the street to those joining us as we stroll down one of the grand boulevards. Appreciate your generous comments from last time! RJ Click on Barcelona Photographs 1 if you missed that installment. NEXT TIME: My Journey of States-5 Missouri
More Photographs of Barcelona Once They're Processed!
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting important personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the fourth post of fifty. 4 Louisiana (1950-52)I remember little about Louisiana, except that my family lived in a forty-foot trailer in Pineville, located near the air base at Alexandria. I recall cypress knees that my father brought back to Kansas and sanded to a sheen and varnished, using one to make the base of a lamp, the rest surviving as sculpture occupying various places in our tiny house. I recall the Po Boy sandwich my mother adapted by using “French” bread you bought in those aluminum foil wraps (instead of baguettes), shredded roast beef, topped with a mixture of ketchup, mustard, and Worcestershire sauce. This was as spicy as my parents could tolerate, even as young people. Their Kansas palates didn’t care for the traditional sandwich of fried oysters, vegetables, and coarse Creole mustard. The black-and-white photographs taken by a black box camera tell me more than my memory. There are surviving pictures of my sister, coy and cute, poised beneath a large metal bridge all by her lonesome. Shots of us playing in the dirt outside our trailor. Shots of my handsome soldier father in his uniform. I later visited New Orleans when as a member of the SMU seminary choir we toured there. I remember wearing the choir stole jauntily around my neck as if it were a scarf. Getting a little tipsy along with the other seminarians as we partied on Bourbon Street in the French Quarter. My fellow students grinning as if viewing the real me for the first time. ¶ Louisiana is the eighteenth state. Its centennial was held in 1912, its bicentennial, well, you know. One forgets how long the state has been established, part of the Old World, as it were. HISTORICAL POSTCARDSIf you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on link: NEXT TIME: My Book World
MY JOURNEY OF STATES is a series in which I relate my sixty-year quest to visit all fifty states in the U.S. In each post I tell of my relationship to that state, whether brief or long, highlighting important personal events. I include the year of each state's entry into the union and related celebrations. I hope you enjoy my journey as much as I have. This is the third post of fifty. 3 TexasMy parents related to me that we traveled around Dallas in 1950 using Loop 12, which was subsumed by Dallas city limits long ago. I clearly don’t remember it. My first memorable trip to Texas came in 1968, when my college choir sang at the national meeting which joined the Methodist Church and the Evangelical United Brethren Church, making it the United Methodist Church. The trip was in April, and, while those back in Kansas were still experiencing cool temps, we sunned by the pool at the motel where we stayed [photos below]. I remember roses blooming profusely in several locations. Even then I was impressed with Texas’s wealth and opulence, particularly in its churches. I returned to Dallas in 1970 to attend graduate school at Southern Methodist University. Even then, I often got the feeling I couldn’t begin to enjoy the city without earning a six-figure income. To heighten the disparity even more, SMU was nestled in the heart of the wealthiest part of Dallas. Highland Park United Methodist Church was located across the parking lot from the married student housing in which I lived for two years, yet the one time my wife and I attended services there, no one spoke to us or even extended us a hand. After two years I was only too glad to leave Dallas and serve an internship in the western part of the state. Yes, I moved to Lubbock, and I have lived there since 1972. At that time Lubbock was just what I needed, what my shrink called a quiet corner of the world. I didn’t intend to stay, but I wasn’t sure where to go. I hadn’t liked Dallas, but neither did I wish to return to Kansas. I sensed that living there I would still be subject to my parents’ scrutiny; I wouldn’t grow. Then at twenty-seven I divorced my wife, found a job and a boyfriend, in pretty short order, and Lubbock seemed like the place to be, where we could reside, and so we have. ¶ Ken’s and my retirement from teaching has been predicated on staying in Lubbock, where our home and cars are paid for, and the cost of living is much less than it is in any of the so-called retirement meccas found in the Southwest or in Florida. With the money we save each year, we can travel to almost anywhere in the country or the world for that matter. There is so much more I could have shared about Texas, having lived here forty-seven years, but I'll save it for another time.¶ Texas is the twenty-eighth state. Its centennial was celebrated in 1936 (on the basis of its being a republic, not its 1845 statehood), its sesquicentennial in 1986. It is curious to me that Texas’s and Oklahoma’s statehoods are over seventy years apart, and yet they lie next to one another like siblings. Trunk Decals and PostcardsIf you missed earlier My Journey of States posts, please click on link: NEXT TIME: My Book World
Dear Fellow Travelers, This first installment of my Barcelona Photographs—made during UMC's Seniors Are Special trip in November—is comprised of as many candid shots I could get of our group of thirty-two. In the coming days I'll also post photographs of the region's architecture and its colorful people. Stay tuned! NEXT TIME: My World of Short Fiction 2018
 A WRITER'S WIT Texas Tech University Museum District For the last two summers Ken and I have made a thirty-minute stroll every morning through the grounds of three museums/galleries: The Texas Tech University Museum, The National Ranching Heritage Museum, and the International Cultural Center (great gallery inside). Not only is it healthful exercise, but the walk is a pretty one, unfettered (mostly) by traffic. The photos below help to capture some of the charm.  A WRITER'S WIT Reno, Nevada—August 3, 2014 NEXT TIME: NEW YORKER FICTION 2014
 A WRITER'S WIT Some Pictures NEXT TIME: NEW YORKER FICTION 2014
 A WRITER'S WIT Photos NEXT TIME: MY BOOK WORLD
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Richard Jespers is a writer living in Lubbock, Texas, USA. See my profile at Author Central:
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