Category: Stories

On Maple Street, where porches sagged gently with age and wind chimes rang slower than they once had, there lived a man named Daniel Mercer. He was not remarkable to look at. He drove an old pickup with faded paint and one stubborn door that needed lifting before it would close. He wore plain work…

He still woke early. That had not changed. For forty-three years, his mornings had belonged to her—quiet footsteps in the kitchen, the soft clink of cups, the low hum of a day beginning together. Even in the last months, when her strength had faded and her voice had grown thin, she still smiled at the…

The years have changed and passed but the story remains The morning came in slowly, like it didn’t want to rush the day. Ethan, the oldest of the two boys, dragged himself out of bed, went into the bathroom, washed his face and hands, then headed downstairs. As he went, he yelled at Luke, his…

St. Joseph, Missouri – Spring, 1852 In 1826 Joseph Robidoux opened his Blacksnake Hills trading post. It became a hub for fur trappers and their trade, but by the early 1850s St. Joseph had grown far beyond its frontier beginnings. After the Platte Purchase of 1837 brought the region officially into Missouri, settlers poured in,…

When he was a boy, the world was big and so much of it unknown. The road in front of their house seemed long and full of places to go. School was out, summer was just beginning, and the weather was warm. Alan had asked for a bicycle for Christmas, and that year he got…

     “I know a woman, became a wife,These are the very words she uses to describe her life…”  Paul Simon’s lyric from “Slip Slidin’ Away”[1] opens a window into quiet despair. The woman’s story is not one of dramatic tragedy, but of slow erosion. Her life, once full of possibility, has narrowed into a role…

Ah Harold. You know him. He’s your husband, your father, your brother, your friend, your neighbor. He’s the guy you knew you could call on for anything. When you had to have surgery, he came to the hospital and sat with your family, praying, encouraging. When he left the hospital he went home, got his…

In the summer of 1992, Bill Sandles celebrated his graduation from the University of Michigan the way many young men with restless hearts do — he went abroad. Kenya had always stirred something in him: wide skies, open savannas, the promise of something untamed and magnificent. So, he booked the trip, packed his bags, and…

In the summer of 1967, I was eighteen years old, just graduated from high school, and working maintenance in a housing project just outside Detroit. To meet government requirements, our crew was evenly divided—half Black, half white. The men I worked with were good men. They treated me with respect, even though I was the…

“The cost of a thing is that amount of life that must be exchanged for it.” Henry David Thoreau “Who is wise?  He that learns from everyone. Who is powerful?  He that governs his passions. Who is rich?  He that is content. Who is that?  Nobody!” Benjamin Franklin “It’s right to be contented with what…