John Robinson
JOHNNY ROBINSON: The Dream Machine
Best I can figure, I’ve been using the same alarm clock since about 1982. The same one, just about every night since then. Huh.
It’s one of those common old...
Walking With Friends – Through Chemo and Beyond
It’s 6:00 AM, pitch dark and cold. I’m in front of my house stretching my...
JOHNNY ROBINSON: Walking With Friends – Through Chemo and Beyond
It’s 6:00 AM, pitch dark and cold. I’m in front of my house stretching my...
Playing on The Railroad Tracks
My Aunt Flip and Uncle Walter lived in a small white frame house right smack...
JOHNNY ROBINSON: The Many Joys of Backyard Picnicking
In the warmer months we ate dinner on the picnic table in our backyard almost...
Hiking Hadrian’s Wall with the Spirits of the Centurions
Eighteen-year-old Philip drives us to Cawfields, where we plan to begin our hike. We spent last night at his family’s 300-year-old stone farmhouse, and...
What Happens at the Star . . .
I don’t know about you, but I am amazed that the city leaders could agree on it. But there it is, standing atop Roanoke’s Mill...
A Hard Earned View Over the South China Sea
Small glassy waves lap at the sand, but otherwise it is silent. The calm South China Sea stetches out to the south, small islands...
Down and Out on the Isle of Skye
We leave our bikes, with the constable’s blessing, leaning up against the weathered brick of the tiny, police station. The town of Broadford...
