Carlson

The secret to sounding like a German is in the throat. Photo by: Nancy Carlson

John Carlson: Um, This Dude Said What?

By: John Carlson— Because Nancy and her sisters are planning a trip to Europe, retracing their late father’s path during World War II from Normandy across the Rhine into Germany, she first intends to brush up on her French and German. Having taken two years of German in high school and two years of French in college, I am helping…


Kilts are more than skirts for guys … supposedly. Photo by: Nancy Carlson

John Carlson: Skirting The Issue

By: John Carlson— Down in Indy recently, I saw a big guy wearing a kilt. I only mention he was a big guy, maybe 6-feet-4 and 250 pounds, because my first thought was to holler, “Nice skirt, sissy!” But one look at him and I knew he’d have pounded me headfirst into the dirt, like I was some newfangled type…


These days you see zombies on billboards, in crawl spaces ..." Photo illustration by: Mike Rhodes

John Carlson: What Do I Hear Down There?

By: John Carlson— There is a certain level of spookiness encountered at night when one’s old kitchen is torn out in order to put in a new one. This is especially true when – in terms of personal courage – you are an unapologetic chicken, and indeed, the sort of unapologetic chicken who wouldn’t be surprised if supernatural beasts are…


An array of art glass can be an eye-catching sight. Photo by: Nancy Carlson

John Carlson: Heated Expressions

By: John Carlson— One thing I know about glass blowing is, it’s not for wimps. Actually, there are two things I know about glass blowing, the second being, when you’ve got that glob of molten, fiery-hot glass stuck to the end of your air tube, DO NOT INHALE. Not that anybody actually mentioned this while Nancy and I were sitting…


One thing about pet rats is, there’s no shortage of them. Photo by: graphicstock

John Carlson: Twitchy-Nosed Babies

By: John Carlson— Ever notice how we humans under-appreciate rats? Consider Pizza Rat. Remember him? He was the rat purposefully navigating steps into the New York City subway system on YouTube a while back, hauling home a pristine slice of carry-out pizza. Talk about can-do spirit! That was a rat for whom Make America Great Again was a commitment, not…


From 1 to 10, Neanderthals were a 1 on the style scale. Illustration by: graphicstock

John Carlson: A Shocking Discovery

By: John Carlson— There’s a lot of Swedish in me, but I always hoped there was some Irish, too, The Auld Sod’s writers like Frank McCourt and Sean O’Faolain being among my favorites. So when our daughter Katie gave Nancy and me a couple DNA tracking kits for Christmas, I spit into my test tube with my fingers crossed. For…


Nothing sticks to your ribs like some great bean soup. Photo by: Nancy Carlson

John Carlson: No Bones About It

By: John Carlson— My wife makes a mean ham-and-bean soup, which is fortunate, since I grew up eating some of the very best. A visit down to Mt. Summit and Sparky’s Doghouse –  better known by many of us as The Cultural Center of the Universe – started me obsessing over this. It was my friend Sparky Harris himself, a…


This parachuting logbook is mighty short on entries. Photo by: Nancy Carlson

John Carlson: Going Dowwwnnnnnn!!!!!

By: John Carlson— Once upon a time, I jumped out of a perfectly good airplane. This was nearly 45 years ago, while a student at a small Christian college.  The school was a place which prohibited many things that most young people considered fun, like smoking, drinking and dancing. Falling through the sky trying not to wet your pants, however,…


There’s a first time for everything, martinis included. Photo by: Nancy Carlson

John Carlson: It’s Shaken, Not Stirred

By: John Carlson— Not to say I am an unsophisticated lout or anything, but the first time I ordered a bottle of wine with dinner at Vera Mae’s Bistro, I nearly sent it back. “Holy crap!” I complained to Kent and Steve. “There’s a cork stuck in it!” Ha–ha! Just joking. While admittedly a 99 percent wine-from-a-spout guy, I knew…


The hardest part of pool is knocking the balls into those holes. Photo by: Nancy Carlson

John Carlson: Life Behind The 8 Ball

By: John Carlson— A friend recently offered me a refresher course on playing pool, but all I needed help with was that part of the game involving hitting a ball with a stick into one of those tiny holes in a felt-covered table. The rest I had down pat. Like, the look. Having set foot in a number of saloons…