At the age of four, my family moved to Alameda, California. This little island tucked away in the San Francisco Bay showcased many Victorian homes. These beauties included everything from quaint cottages to astounding mansions and varying sizes in between. While living on the island, children that lived in these houses, often told wild tales about secret rooms or spoke of hidden treasure. My brothers and I would often search for hidden rooms and fortune too. When I was five or six, I did find a prize, an antique teapot from Holland. Continue reading “My Island Home”
–Richard Dean Anderson
Today, while sorting family photos, I came across this picture. All I know about it is that my grandfather, Wilson Reeder, gave it my father, Harold Reeder. On the back of the photo, all that was written was my dad’s name. I know the picture was taken in Michigan, and I do know my family lived in Plymouth, but I am not sure where the photo was taken. Continue reading “Reeder Family Home”
Near Canon City, Colorado, the Royal Gorge Bridge sits on a 360 acre parcel of land that attracts tourists from around the world. This bridge crosses a gorge that is over 950 feet above the Arkansas River. Until 2001, this bridge was the highest bridge in the world. Continue reading “The Royal Gorge Bridge”
Laughter behind closed doors sent shivers, and when explored, opened doors would not always close, no matter how hard we pushed on them.
While living on the small island nestled in the San Francisco Bay, I often overheard bizarre tales of supernatural events that took place in some of the Victorian homes around Alameda. As a skeptical teenager, I would listen politely but believed such events only transpired in the overactive imagination of the “storyteller,” that is until strange things began happening in my own home. Continue reading “The Ghost on Lincoln Avenue”
For me, Hotchkiss, Colorado is more than just a place on the map or a spot on the road; it’s a place of dreams and promises, where pioneer families came, built their homes and left a legacy. Continue reading “Finding My Way Home”
Questioning if this will be the last time—
a glimmer fills the darkness
As a father and step father, my grandfather David cared for twenty children!
My great-great-grandfather, David Allen, was a farmer and a rancher for most of his life. My grandfather was born in Somerset County, Pennsylvania in 1810, and his parents were Philip and Nancy “Ann” Wilcox. By the time he was four years old, his family was living in Monroe County, Ohio. Continue reading “Yours, Mine, and Ours”
the mighty Rocky Mountains–