Category Archives: Doug Weaver

October 24, 2012

Quilts for Ike

DENISON, Texas – About this time each year, I pull myself into the big white truck and head south. I don’t have to think much about where I’m going.  It’s kind of like climbing a trusty horse and counting on her to nose us both home. We get there just fine. “Home” this time of Continue Reading

October 11, 2012

Of Pyr and paws

There’s a barn quilt affixed to the rear end of my house. Like a cattle brand, or a bumper sticker, or that tattoo you know about but rarely share, this one’s on the backside, for those behind you to see. How it got there is a tale worth telling.  It involves a 90-pound puppy, for Continue Reading

June 22, 2011

From Russia … quilts, with love

There’s a great movie from 1966 called “The Russians Are Coming.” It tells the tale of a Soviet sub that got stuck in shallow water along a New England coast. I won’t bother you with the details, but it’s pretty funny. Basically, the fierce Russians turn out to be pretty nice guys.  They even help Continue Reading

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May 10, 2011

Freedom’s road

LIMON, Colo.  – I’m a lucky guy. There aren’t a lot of perks that come with a newspaper job these days except for the job itself.  But one that comes my way each May is the road. Because along about now I’ve packed a rental truck as tight as a Jimmy Dean sausage and headed Continue Reading

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January 26, 2011

What a pistol she was!

I had a dream last night.

I’m not sure about the why of the dream. Maybe because I’m feeling a mite guilty about shirking this blog. Maybe because I saw “True Grit” on Friday night. Maybe bad pizza.

Anyway, my Great Aunt Rose, long passed, came to me Rose comes haunting : My, could she talk!last night. But she was the age of 14-year-old Mattie Ross, the smart-as-a-whip employer of Rooster Cogburn in the True Grit story.

Now, this wasn’t a nightmare. For instance, she didn’t pack a Colt Dragoon pistol in a cloth bag the way Mattie did.

But she sure talked the way Mattie did … that concise mix of classic, Old West formality that could cut you to the quick before you knew you’d been cut.

“Now, Douglas, I come upon you this night because of a sin of omission on your part.”

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