A Few Thoughts… On time, new works and short-lived famous folks
By Sandy Compton Reader Columnist I’ve not been writing a lot of late — mostly, just this column. The best days of writing are dark and wet, when I’m glad to be inside and...
By Sandy Compton Reader Columnist I’ve not been writing a lot of late — mostly, just this column. The best days of writing are dark and wet, when I’m glad to be inside and...
By Sandy Compton Reader Columnist It seems to be spring. Winter wasn’t so great, as winters go; after too many days of skiing last season, I’ve not had enough this year. But I’m grateful...
By Sandy Compton Reader Columnist Questions: Why does halftime at the Super Bowl last 100 years and feature stuff football fans have no interest in? Is it just me, or do others have no...
By Sandy Compton Reader Columnist It’s time to write something clever about the new year. Or at least something. We get an extra day in 2024, and we get to go through an election...
By Sandy Compton Reader Columnist “It’s the most wonderful time of the year,” asserts the song. The reference of lyricists Edward Pola and George Wyle and performer Andy Williams was, of course, to the...
By Sandy Compton Reader Columnist Life is full right now. Time seems compressed, but on Saturday, I will take a day to travel to the Colville Reservation to visit a dried-up cemetery. I have...
By Reader Staff Since its founding in 2003, independent publishing house Blue Creek Press has supported authors, promoted creativity and provided readers with a diverse catalog spanning genres from fiction to poetry, non-fiction and...
By Sandy Compton Reader Columnist Once upon a time, long, long ago — at least a decade, maybe more — I was enlisted by a couple of teachers from a local school to help...
By Sandy Compton Reader Columnist It’s the summer solstice and I’m walking through my lower briar patch. If you know me, you may know what I mean. If you don’t, you won’t. My stroll...
By Sandy Compton Reader Columnist Memorial Day weekend is passed. Soggy campers weathered the weather, and cemeteries sprouted flags and flowers in remembrance of loved ones. Twenty-eight years ago last Sunday, I traveled to...