Volume 2 - Issue 7 - July 2026

Greetings !

America’s 250th birthday is here. You’d think a semiquincentennial would be a bigger year-round deal rather than just one day.

I heard there were some politically sponsored events that busted. Maybe the reason it doesn’t feel especially memorable to me is that I can never remember what a 250th anniversary is called.

A centennial? A bicentennial? Those are easy. My Magic Marker holder is an 1876 centennial mug.

Most of us who were around in 1976 remember the patriotic hoopla, the same tall ships, and the nationwide celebration. A semiquincentennial sounds more like a medical condition than a birthday party.

Out here in Boulder, the celebration has changed with the times. Because of fire danger, this year’s fireworks have been replaced with a drone show, which was also canceled.

That was a wise decision, although some of my neighbors seem determined to provide their own aerial displays. Fireworks that soar above the rooftops are technically illegal, and in dry conditions they can quickly turn a celebration into something much less festive.

Longmont had a big community picnic that’s like a July 4th tailgate party. Celebrants come early, pitch canopies and put out a spread for the picnic judging contest.

July also means the approach of Cheyenne Frontier Days. It seems to arrive earlier every year, even though the schedule remains anchored to the last full week of July.

I’m not as good as I once was, as Toby Keith says, but I plan to make it up for Cheyenne Day on Wednesday of Frontier Week. Jalan Crossland playing the Paramount is becoming an annual tradition. I heard Jalan totaled his van, I won't recognize his new digs.

For a Cheyenne native, that’s still one of the best days of summer. The town closes down for a day to reconnect with locals.

Of course, everything’s been overshadowed by the World Cup football tournament hosted in North America. Team USA reached the Sweet 16 before losing to Belgium. Soccer’s been growing here since the 1970s. Maybe the sport will take off like the WNBA.

In this month’s newsletter, I’ll share a few thoughts about summer traditions, creative projects, and the stories that continue to connect us to the places we call home.

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Paris to Boulder, and Pamplona to Cheyenne: Reimagining a Hemingway Classic

Some books begin as an idea. Others begin as a conversation across generations.

Best Chance Media released my historical fiction novel, What the Morning Brings. It’s fitting that the book comes out this month, since July 22nd is Ernest Hemingway’s birthday and Cheyenne Day.

I adapted Hemingway’s classic The Sun Also Rises, which entered the public domain in 2022. Rather than retelling the story, I reimagined it for a different generation facing a different war.

Hemingway’s characters sought refuge in the cafés of post-World War I Paris. My characters find themselves in Boulder, Colorado, during the turbulent years of the Vietnam War. The antiwar movement gains momentum. Young people question authority. Veterans return home carrying wounds that aren't always visible.

Jake Barnes, a Vietnam veteran and newspaper photographer, and Brett Ashley, a former military nurse turned antiwar activist are at the center of the story. Like many people of their generation, they are searching for meaning in a world that no longer makes sense.

The story eventually leaves Boulder for Wyoming. In Hemingway's novel, the climax unfolds during the Running of the Bulls and the bullfights of Pamplona, Spain. In What the Morning Brings, the action moves to Cheyenne and the Wild Prairie Stampede, where a fateful bull ride changes lives forever.

The novel explores friendship, love, loss, resilience, and the struggle to find one’s place in a rapidly changing America. While inspired by a literary classic, it’s also a story of the American West, the Vietnam era, and the people who lived through it.

As a writer and documentary filmmaker, I’ve long been fascinated by how history shapes individual lives. What the Morning Brings allowed me to revisit a pivotal period in American history while paying tribute to one of literature’s most enduring novels.

If you’d like to be among the first readers, autographed copies are now available. Purchasing directly helps support independent publishing and allows me to personally sign each book before it ships.

Thank you to everyone who has followed my writing journey. I look forward to sharing this new story with you.

Buy your autographed copy today and join me on a journey from the streets of Boulder to the rodeo grounds of Cheyenne, where the promises of youth collide with the realities of war, love, and fate.

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One Slide at a Time: Rediscovering history before it fades away

I’ve been putting off the slide viewing for years. Sorting my stuff for the American Heritage Center motivated me to go through them.

The task seemed simple enough. I have boxes and carousels of slides and photographs accumulated over decades. I’ll take the hard copies to the AHC. My plan is to digitize them and create an online archive by signing up for another Google Drive.

Kodachrome was top quality in its day. A status symbol. The best prints. Kodak quit making Kodachrome, and I don’t want photos on the walls.

Now, all I want are fuzzy reference shots, this one of me hiking into the Superstition Mountains in Arizona, searching for the Lost Dutchman Mine.

The thought of reviewing the slides daunted me, since I haven’t looked at them in decades. Some are labeled. Others are complete ... Read the rest of the story

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Growth on Our Terms: How Communities Can Take Control of the Digital Boom

Episode 1 and 2

I’m making a new American Outlands podcast called “Silicon Prairie.” You can read it or listen to me talk about economic booms and busts. The cycle is as much a part of the Rocky Mountain West as dust storms, pickup trucks, and someone insisting this year’s growth “will be different.”

The newest growth explosion thundering across the region and the nation isn’t gold or fossil fuel extraction. It’s what I call digital foundries that crunch cryptocurrency transactions, stream high-speed video content, and feed the ever-growing brain of Artificial Intelligence, otherwise known as AI.

In this five-part series, I’ll draw on my experience watching rural communities grapple with energy-driven growth spurts.

I’ll look at what happens when gigantic Digital Foundries arrive in places built for cattle, coal mines, or low-stress living, and suddenly require enormous amounts of ... READ MORE

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The Emotional Journey of Swedish Death Cleaning

I drove a carload of boxes to Laramie and made the final major delivery for my Swedish death-cleaning project.

One destination was the American Heritage Center at the University of Wyoming in Laramie. The boxes contained decades of my life: research materials, hard drives, scrapbooks, manuscripts, photographs, films, books, and assorted records from projects that occupied countless hours over the years.

A separate box held watercolor paintings my mother created. Those went to the Laramie Plains Museum. Some will become part of the museum’s collection, while others will help support its mission through fundraising auctions.

As I handed everything over, I found myself experiencing mixed emotions. The handoff took all of 10 minutes.

Kind of anticlimactic, considering I’ve been sorting and sifting since the Wyoming Writers Inc. conference at the beginning of June. AHC staffer Brie Blasi asked if I’d donate my stuff.

Part of me felt a sense of relief. My materials are no ... Read the rest of the story

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Subscribe to my Substack version of the Marginalia

The Marginalia is changing in 2026. Please click and subscribe! Since I read my first byline in the Carey Junior High School Tumbleweed newspaper, I’ve been more interested in the notes in the margins than the polished text in the middle.

The crossed-out sentences. The questions scribbled in pencil that say, “Wait, what about this? That’s where the thinking happens. That’s where the truth sneaks in.

That’s why I launched Marginalia on Substack.

The Marginalia is a home for the in-between thoughts, the ideas that don’t arrive fully formed, the stories that reveal themselves as you work them out, and the observations you make when you’re paying attention rather than chasing certainty. It’s less about having the final answer and more about asking better questions.

If you’ve been a subscriber to my newsletter, this is a natural extension of what I’ve already been sharing with you, just more focused, more regular, and more conversational. On Substack, Marginalia is where I publish ongoing stories and essays about writing, publishing, creativity, and the strange business of trying to make something worthwhile in a very noisy world.

My disclaimer: You’re receiving this newsletter because at some point over the past 25 or 30 years, we’ve met or corresponded by email. You can unsubscribe if your inbox is already too cluttered. You’re safe here. I’ll never claim to be your long-lost son, and I need $1,000 in Bitcoin, ASAP.

Drop me a line if you run out of things to do. Thank you for sticking around. Until next time...

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What are you doing this July?