(I won’t be writing or posting 9/11 memorials. I’ve done that before — in 2015, for example — and in multiple poems, including Old New York Photos, Another Ode To The United States Of America, You Can Not Crush Us, Tonight, and possibly others.) School Photo, 1992 This is my sophomore yearbook photo from Central[…]
When it’s so hot and dry that even cactus dies (Copyright © 2011 by Wil C. Fry.) About a year ago, I wrote about an early mention of environmentalism in my journals, coupled with tongue-in-cheek bragging about my wooing skills. At the time, I believed that was the earliest mention of such thoughts in my[…]
Dec. 10, 1994: Skinny Wil and Young Margy (Copyright © 1994 by William R. Fry. All Rights Reserved.) No one says they want to be “middle-aged and in love”. The phrase specifically mentions “young”. I don’t know why. I can’t understand why. I’m middle-aged, and in love, and I like it that way. Twenty[…]
Part of a page from my journal, written in July 2000. (Copyright © 2000, 2013 by Wil C. Fry. Some rights reserved.) I want to clarify my purpose here a little bit, in light of a recent request from someone I care about: “Tell me you aren’t using this blog to systematically attack my[…]
My Fall 1984 school portrait (“Summer of ’84” doesn’t have quite the same ring to it as the title/chorus of Bryan Adams’ Summer of ’69, which was incidentally recorded in 1984, but I didn’t live through 1969.) What triggered my flashback: Returning from our neighborhood’s swimming pool with the kids. The smell of sunscreen and[…]
To my knowledge, this is the only photo of the 1974 Chevy Monte Carlo that I owned from late 1995 through late 1998 (Copyright © 1997 by Geraldean Fry.) (I didn’t record the following incidents in my journal — I wasn’t writing often in my journal in the late 1990s — so I’m depending on[…]
I couldn’t forget this if I wanted to. But thankfully, I don’t remember it very often. (Copyright © 2010 by Wil C. Fry.) Memory is a funny thing — which is probably the main reason I began keeping a journal and also one of the reasons I became interested in photography. I’ve often shaken my[…]
(This is the long version. Click here to read the short version.) Money (Copyright © 2005 by Wil C. Fry.) Probably like many youngsters in the U.S., I grew up hearing adults extol the virtues of the “free market” and “capitalism” — I’m now convinced this was in reaction to our sworn enemies, the Communists.[…]
For anyone who cares to read it, I’ve posted the entirety of a short “treatise” I wrote in 1996, called “Creation Or Evolution, Or: What Does It Matter?” Here’s a little context to help understand where I was as a person in July 1996.
All month long I’ve grown increasingly frustrated with the media feeding frenzy over the “Lest We Forget” type stories about the death of President John F. Kennedy — 50 years ago today. Certainly it was a striking moment in our nation’s history, and to anyone who remembers the day, I can’t imagine… But I wasn’t[…]
From my journal, Aug. 8, 1995: “When I got back… everyone was still awake. I was waiting for them to go to sleep, so I could leave, and then I remembered [her] face when she was pleading with me not to go. The look of love on her face held me. And it still haunts[…]
While going through old boxes recently, in an attempt to heal myself of being a packrat, I came across the “Sermon Log” that I kept from 1991 through 1995. Keeping such a log was suggested (as I recall) by my Homiletics professor Dr. Judy Brown* at Central Bible College.
My own political interests have not been strong for much of my life, even well into adulthood. These days, when I catch myself being surprised at people who aren’t politically aware, I have to remind myself of my own lack of interest for many years.
Favorite line I saw in my old journals recently (From Dec. 11, 2000): — Still debating whether or not I’m retarded (mentally.)
(Copyright © 2000 by Wil C. Fry. All rights reserved.) Self-portrait with cheap film camera
In a recent post, I mentioned being surprised at an old journal entry, in which I bravely asked out a pretty girl, and she said yes. This contradicted my memory of being shy around girls and of being regularly rejected. The more I dig backward, the more I see this type of thing.
In my last entry I mentioned an incident from my journal that surprised me, because it showed a twist on my personality that I didn’t remember. Reading a little further, into my first semester at Central Bible College (Springfield, Mo.), there were some tidbits that I do remember. One thing to note is that each[…]
(Copied from my “Little Blue Notebook”) Some people are like shovels, digging deeper into one particular subject or interest. I am more like a rake, scraping the surface of a hundred categories.
(Copied from “Big Blue Notebook”.) Thoughts on Life I happen to agree with the simple catch phrase used by the GORE campaign: “every vote should count.” Duh. That’s the premise on which rests our nation. But that phrase, in itself, unqualified and unexplained, means nothing.