The Merciless Wind, Part II

The Merciless Wind, Part II

  This is the second and final installment of my May 5, 1985 Daily Press article about the tornado which destroyed Peggs, Oklahoma on May 2, 1920. In 1920, Walter Neel lived with his parents, brothers and sisters on the Gid Morgan farm, two and a fourth miles southeast of Peggs. The storm went a […]

When Real Life Is Mysterious

When Real Life Is Mysterious

  Real-life mysteries exist all around us-life experiences, questions without answers. These are just begging to be put into a cozy mystery, and I am happy to oblige. Take houses, for example. Old houses have a history of their own. My parents moved a few times during my childhood, so I lived in several different […]

To Write or Not to Write

To Write or Not to Write

  Why did I write them? Why, indeed? Why are the three Ned McNeil moonlight books on the market, available for those who like to read cozy mysteries? As any writer can tell you, there are people and plots inhabiting the area in our brains where creativity takes place. Since those people and plots would […]

The Time Tunnel

The Time Tunnel

Go with me this morning on a journey–not so far in miles, but a great distance in time and quite a giant leap in imagination. We’re going to struggle through years of wild undergrowth–bushes, weeds, grape vines, wild rose bushes, blackberry briars, giant oaks, and we’ll stop at the remains of a small, wood house. […]

Puddles and Ponderings

When I was a child, Dad had a pond below the house by the barn. I used to drop a rock in that pond and watch the circles spread. Small circles at first, but spreading wider and wider. Life experiences are like that rock. They disturb the small surface of the pond and spread, sometimes […]

Retreat to the Front

Retreat to the Front

When life gets to be a bit much, I retreat to the front porch, my grandparents’ porch. It isn’t far–just a thought, a smile away. The porch is cool and shady, the rocking chair is comfortable. I see past the rock steps at the foot of the yard. I see across the road to Pappy’s […]

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