Carlson

John Carlson: Doesn’t Taste Like Chicken

By: John Carlson— My wife Nancy and I have been off-and-on subscribers to the magazine Outdoor Indiana for a number of years, which also means we get its annual Department of Natural Resources calendar. This calendar is very handy for pointing out things you otherwise might miss. Like, without this calendar, I wouldn’t know that Feb. 25 is the day skunk cabbage will presumably be blooming up in Pokagon State Park. So if you find regular cabbage bland, you could…


John Carlson: Time for Unresolutions!

By: John Carlson— It’s that time of year when we all resolve to make positive changes in our lives, except the positive changes from my New Year’s resolutions never last longer than noon on January 1. After awhile, these failures get depressing. So in an attempt to enhance my self-esteem, I figured I’d have way more luck detailing the things I resolve not to change in 2019, and sticking to them. For one thing, I am not going to keep…


John Carlson: Children Need A Special Gift

By: John Carlson— “I like trains.” That was it, one child’s fondest wish, hinted at in a card hanging from an artificial Christmas tree in a Muncie church’s narthex. There was more on his wish list, but not much more. A couple items of clothing. A pair of socks. Maybe a pair of shoes. Other cards on this tree represented additional little kids and their wishes. A Barbie doll. A toy car. A dinosaur. And the simple clothing items like…


John Carlson: Modern-Day Dentistry

By: John Carlson— Just the other day I was lying in a dentist’s chair when an intriguing question came to mind: How did the stuff they scrape off your teeth wind up with the same name as the stuff they slather on fish sandwiches?   This is the kind of thing that keeps me wide awake nights.   It’s like, I hate tooth tartar, because it’s a hassle to have removed in the never-ending quest for dental health. On the other hand,…


John Carlson: A Mulching We Will Go…

By: John Carlson— I love trees. I do until fall, anyway. Then I hate trees. Trees wouldn’t be so bad in the fall, of course, if only they didn’t have leaves. I could really go for that. Or, I could go for trees that had leaves, providing those leaves stayed on the trees forever and ever, never littering the ground. Tree scientists should look into that. Granted, though, leaves are special. One special thing about them is, depending on the…


John Carlson: Life In ‘Das’ Fast Lane

By: John Carlson— This summer my wife Nancy, her sisters Marti, Beverly and Margi, plus their sister-in-law, also named Nancy, visited Europe for two weeks, beginning in Normandy at the D-Day invasion site code-named Utah Beach. They loved the trip. What they did was follow their Dad’s path through World War Two. Their thoroughly-researched journey began where Louis Briggs hit the beach in France as a young American artillery officer. Later  they moved through Luxembourg, the Netherlands and Belgium, before…


John Carlson: Thanksgiving, In Retrospect

By: John Carlson— By the time you read this, I will have survived my 68th Thanksgiving. Sixty-eight strikes me as lots of Thanksgivings, so I feel confident in explaining exactly what I am thinking, feeling and doing right now. That is even though this column is being written fully two weeks before Turkey Day, so I can sneak in a quick Florida vacation. First, in keeping with yesterday’s holiday, I feel incredibly thankful. What I feel incredibly thankful for  is…


John Carlson: Movie-Going Is Looking Up

By: John Carlson— Back in my formative years, going to movies was not a big part of my life. This was because we were Baptists, very conservative Baptists. Supporting Hollywood and its lewd, sinful, lascivious ways was a no-no. Nevertheless, against all odds, I somehow managed to see two movies as a kid. One was “Sink the Bismarck.” The other was “Darby O’Gill and the Little People.” Beats me how this happened, but the screaming banshees in the latter made…


John Carlson: The Joys Of Muddy Pond

By: John Carlson— A couple weeks ago, Nancy and I, plus some fellow Lutheran friends, drove south from Muncie to a place called Muddy Pond. Here are the directions: First, drive to Dale Hollow in Tennessee. Having never driven to Dale Hollow in Tennessee, nor Dale Hollow in Kentucky, for that matter, I rode shotgun in one car, along with four others. Another four of us rode in a second car, for a total party of nine. We included Rosanna,…


John Carlson: Here’s To Work And Workers

By: John Carlson— So Nancy and I had this problem. The problem was, my “man cave” had a closet in it, but totally filling that closet space was a mammoth safe. Black as coal, this empty old safe stood chest high, thirty-odd inches across and roughly the same length deep. Pushing against it felt like pushing against Mount Rushmore. Why anybody wedged that  safe into my man cave’s closet was beyond me. For all I knew the closet, and maybe…