During the Watergate summer of 1973, while Sam Ervin roasted Nixon administration witnesses, I worked as a roofer on a housing development in Cochiti, New Mexico. The days had an amazing sameness. Continue reading
A half-dozen years ago I was sitting around an evening campfire at the Oregon Country Fair in Veneta, just jawing with a few of the folks on my volunteer crew when, for some forgotten reason, I mentioned the Mudsharks in the course of my rambling.
“What’s a Mudshark?” someone asked. Continue reading