Cup of Joe April 19, 2026

Flashback: As if I had not used enough postage and my package from the past was finally returned, I had a flashback. I was leaving the Smoky Hill Museum and their wonderful Americans exhibit last month. I was parked on the west side - 8th St. Suddenly, my rearview mirror looked back 40 years - (images may appear older?) and a mail truck pulled out from behind the Museum. Many trucks have made that drive back when that building was the Salina Post Office. The “new” Museum opened at 8th & Iron in 1986.  Stamps were 22 cents back then. 

Floundering: On writing mornings before the coffee kicks in, I can flounder and it has nothing to do with the fish or the character in Animal House.  There might be ideas that go nowhere. One recent stalled rant was on the word square. My wife walks the dog around the square. But, I was using it to refer to a single square of toilet tissue that may or may not have been touched by a stranger in a public restroom. See. Where does that go? Who wants to have that image stuck in their head? No wonder we avoid public restrooms. To flounder is a verb that describes very little positive action. Surely, I can find a better use for square.  I’ll have to work on that.

Pirates: You could have been a pirate. Or a cute dancing police person with a fake mustache. Theatre Salina suggested this at the bottom of their list of cast members for The Pirates of Penzance. Did I spell that right? Penzance is a coastal town in Cornwall, England. The theatre snuck in that small recruiting pitch for new actors and dancers on their web page. Imagine the fun of being in that talented cast for a few months. And, after all the standing ovations for you as a singing pirate, you take a bow and go back to your usual role of being your best self. 

Fog: In the novel The Dog Stars (2012) by Peter Heller, the protagonist utters the phrase the Fog of Being. It captures a feeling. Most of us manage to live through thick foggy days when we can’t really see or know what lies ahead or where we’re going. Sometimes in the fog, we can hear the conflicting sounds of words, prayers, bombs, cries and shouting all jumbled together. It can be hard to understand or to believe what we are hearing or seeing through contemporary and persistent fog. We thought the winds of being in Kansas were bad. They are. It doesn’t help when I clean my glasses. It may not even be a relief when this cloud of unknowing clears. Life is just not always clear. Read the book before you see the movie that comes out later this year.

Procession: On an overcast morning, there was a long procession of slow moving cars grouped closely together and heading east up Crawford. They all had their headlights on. Looked they might be heading to Roselawn Cemetery. From the top of the hill driving west, I was prepared to move over and respectfully let them pass. A good tradition. Or is it a law? It’s law. Do you try to look at the mourners in their cars or bow your head and say a prayer? Suddenly, one car turned off. These vehicles were not together. There was no real funeral. It was just a dark day with steady traffic. Still, something about their slow pace made me think they shared a common sadness and they were driving inevitably toward the end of something.