Terre Haute News, Terre Haute, Indiana- TribStar.com

The Off Season: Improving a social grade: Mr. Lunsford goes to town
I have no problem in admitting that I am not the most urbane man you will ever meet. I have only basic knowledge of the social proprieties, often fail to have my shoes polished, and have a hard time getting the part in my hair to come out straight. There’s no doubt that I prefer faded cotton to Armani any day.
THE OFF SEASON: In praise of old men
I remember the days of driving into town with my grandfather many years ago, sometimes on a Saturday morning to the lumber yard or over to his church to mow grass; he would often comment on the people he waved to from the rolled-down window of his pick-up.
The Off Season: Reminiscing on a birthday brings back fond memories of trees
It is a lazy late-summer Sunday afternoon as I write this; it is also my birthday, and as I sit at my desk today and watch through my window as warm breezes sift through maple leaves, memories of trees other than those in my front yard come back to me, and I open them like brand new gifts.
The Off Season: A pair of boots worn well…
It was on a breezy Saturday morning trip through our barn’s double doors that I happened to notice a pair of my old work boots in the trash barrel we keep there. It is in that place that much of what we have worn out or used up ends, just junk taking a last bow before meeting up with landfill dirt.
The Off Season: The size of a heart does matter
We had a medical emergency at our house a few weeks back, but fortunately, after a little first-aid, an all-night nursing vigil, and a trip into town, we’re feeling a little bit better about things now.
THE OFF SEASON: Taking the ‘Tin Lizzy’ for a spin
I can laugh about it now, but I actually saw newspaper headlines flashing before my eyes for a few seconds last week: “Writer dies in Model T test drive crash.”
The Off Season: The life of and the life in a barn…
One of the things my wife and I most wanted when we moved to our place almost 30 years ago was the barn that sat behind the house.
The Off Season: Shaking hands with Mr. Lincoln
On a blistering hot afternoon a few weeks back, my wife and I knocked on the door of sculptor Bill Wolfe’s workshop on the west side of Clinton. We were there to meet Abraham Lincoln.
The Off Season: After a good run, ‘Mr. Fix-It’ hits the wall
I should have known when I sat down at the kitchen table one night last week to use our old typewriter on an application — just for a name and a few sentences on one of those pre-printed forms — that the whole thing was going to blow up in my face. We seem to be in the same rut right now that all homeowners face from time to time: Everything we own is falling apart. Anyway, I rolled the form into the typewriter and started on my name: M-i-c-h-a-e-l L-u-s-f-o-r-d … no “n”— the “n” wouldn’t work…

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