We live in this ass-backwards society where its perfectly acceptable to blame inanimate objects for the actions of stupid people. For instance: Guns shoot people. Spoons make people fat. Pencils misspell words. Cars drive drunk. And now, this one--this is an instant classic--historic mills throw themselves into the road and impale speeding cars. I mean, seriously? Somebody had better flatten those damned mills before someone else gets hurt. As a matter of fact, I know of a couple trees that are repeat offenders and must be chopped down before they kill again. Just the other night, I was driving...

We all have that property that we gawk at but can never muster the courage to approach. For the longest time, my unapproachable permission was a brick farmhouse on a hill. I drove by this house every day for years, but something held me back. Instead of asking for permission and facing the possibility of rejection, I'd settled for thinking that I could get permission. I'm almost positive that I'm not the only hobbyist who thinks this way. We all have that unapproachable permission that we silently salivate over... A few weeks ago, I had been poking around the remains of the Fickel House...

I wanted to share a bit about my trip to the historical society on Wednesday. My goal was to uncover more information on the Wright House--my new underground railroad permission--as well as more information about Latimore Township. I wanted to share an excerpt with you from one of my readings at the historical society: In the early part of harvest, 1851, four slaves came to William Wright's house from Maryland. They were in a state of semi-nudity, their clothing being nearly all torn off and handing in ratters. At this hospitable home they were furnished with clothing and shoes. Learning that...

Today, I told my son a story today about the good guys and the bad guys. The bad guys chased the good guys to a house where they hid in the walls and the attic and the basement. When the bad guys came, they looked everywhere for the good guys, but they played hide-and-seek so well that the bad guys couldn't find them anywhere. So the bad guys left and the good guys went to hide in another house and one day lived happily ever after. I introduce you to the Wright House--this picture is from six years ago but I think you get the gist. This sad looking stack of bricks may not look like much,...