CONTEMPORARY EXPLORER

  Great Falls had it heydays many years ago. It looks like it had been put to sleep. Its downtown is a row of empty worn storefronts, a legacy shared by many small places here when the textile industry died. It was the closing of Republic Textile Mill here that seemed to freeze the town in time, breathless of life, waiting for fortune to find it again. I had visited here many times with my camera capturing the faded colors and patina of the place. You never find many people wandering here, streets seem always empty. The quiet giving you time to photograph. Early one morning, to my surprise, I saw the doors to one of the store fronts, Browning T shirts open. I had photographed the building many times, never thinking the business was still there. Holding the door open was a small table with a vase.  Mr. Browning greeted me, “Pretty isn’t she.” He said seeing me eyeing the vase. “$2 since you are my first customer.” He handed it to me, as I thought about how my Kathleen would love it espe

  People pass each other every day without connecting. I used to routinely seek out new connections both in business and on the personal side. The business ones represented new opportunities. The personal ones were equally rewarding. They were chances to learn about people and ideas. It was like catching small sound bites of their worlds and experiences. They made me feel more human and open to new things. Well before the pandemic, I found myself losing this art of making connections with new people. The smartphone, pace of life, and divisions in the country led me to be less welling to start the casual conversation. This only increased with the pandemic. While I didn’t pull up the covers in bleak depression, I did feel more isolated. Talking with friends, I have learned that I am not alone in this feeling. In fact, a recent study found that people now prefer a machine instead of interacting with people. Good if we are in a hurry and we are all in a hurry it seems. However, talking wit

  They come to us folded and perfect, protecting our goods. It’s not always been that way. Before the corrugated box was invented in 1871, shipping was a haphazard affair. The only protection a tarp or clumsy wooden box. One that could not be easily reproduced. Shipping boxes were invented by accident when a printer dropped a ruler into his press and discovered it left creases that could be folded on the poster board he printed. Today, we expect a lot from these boxes. Too often though, we ignore and take them for granted. If you really look though, there is certain art about them. They have traveled many miles and wear the marks from doing so. Marks that give them patina and an abstract appeal. If you don’t believe boxes have an art to themselves, a recent study of toys and young children might give you pause. It seems that young children will open a box containing a toy, but quickly tire of the toy. Once they do, they start playing with the box it came in. This phenomena happens so o

  "Two Knocks" by David Young - a collection of short stories about second chances, second acts, changed minds and the final two knocks is available on both Apple Book Store and Amazon's Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09BLF19TP