Winter Issue

For this issue’s installment of “Trips,” Kendric W. Taylor takes us into the heart of Costa Rica for encounters with venomous snakes, a never-say-die frog and 700-pound egg-laying sea turtles, where the only connection with civilization was “The Phone on the Rain Forest Wall.” 

Our reporter-at-large stars in a new video, “A Quick Trip Around the World with Markus Fogg.” How his star turn came about, followed by a conversation with Sharafina Teh and how she came to the art and expertise that made it all happen.  

When Frank I. Sillay had to tackle an animation for the New Zealand Ministry of Works in the 1960s, “computers in those days had an entry price somewhere well beyond a million and could only be found in places like government departments and multi-national corporations, even machines with computing power now surpassed by a $100 cell phone.”  He explains how artistry, technology and hours of manpower made it all happen.   

 “A passenger train is a rolling village,” Bill Scheller writes in his memoir, “Always Time for a Train.  “Some people move in and out; others are long-term residents. Club cars are the village squares, where you run into your neighbors, make friends, and find out who avoid.”  Bill, who has logged more train time than just about anyone on the planet, including authoring Amtrak’s first guidebook, takes along for many of those rides).

“Christmas mornings brought footsteps on the stairs that could not be accounted for,” Frank I. Sillay writes in “A Christmas Ghost Story.”  “We accepted this as just one of those inexplicable things and didn’t think too much more about it.” The answer is revealed.   

On a camping excursion deep into Mexico’s Barrancas del Cobre (Copper Canyon), Buddy Mays records remarkable journal entries about the indigenous Tarahumara people, trekking demanding canyon trails, meet-ups with wild pigs, brushing by a jaguar and more, all of it with the stunning photos that are Buddy’s trademark artform.     

“My grandfather was a pyrotechnist and one of the unrecognized artists who’d brought this spectacular art to these shores from Europe,” Tony Tedeschi writes in his memoire, “The Bombardier.”  “The Long Island of the first half of the 20th century was a gathering place for clusters of these nameless immigrants determined to recast this new land in the images of the old.”    

“Batmo was my first – and truest – car love,” Aglaia Davis writes in her latest “Email from the Upper West Side: All Roads Lead Home, Batmo Retires (October 2019).” “It was Batmo’s final weekend.  Not in his life, but in mine. Since sometime in mid-2008, after Batmo had long imprinted on me, I had never seriously imagined the day of parting from him.” )
“My five thousand dollar chairs,” my father used to say, but never with bitterness,” Tony Tedeschi writes in his short story, “The Shuffle Inn.  “He’d taken his best shot, and he’d recognized it as such.”   

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