But that didn’t stop him from sending me a letter. Earlier this year, I initiated the Cribbageland Open Letter Campaign, in which I mailed several letters to several athletes, all wondering if they’d be interested in speaking with me about a little 15-2. There are 52 cards in a deck, 52 weeks in a year. You see the strategy. Unfortunately, as my time spent working grew and my time spent sleeping shrank, I abandoned the campaign for some undisclosed future date. Maybe it’s time to fire it up again. After all, Mauer isn’t the first to respond–just the first without a form letter. Continue reading
Rachel and I spent a whirlwind 24 hours at the National Hobo Convention in Britt, Iowa, this last weekend. While the aroma of hundreds of gallons of mulligan stew (delicious) wafted through Britt, the week-long festival came to a head on Saturday with the coronation of this year’s Hobo King and Queen, Uncle Freddy and Minneapolis Jewel. Throughout it all, we met some of the most well-known hobos of the past few decades and learned quite a bit about this often maligned and misunderstood people and culture. Continue reading
Sometimes a hobo writes a verse
Oft’ times he makes it rhyme,
In boxcar jargon poetry
He spends his precious time.
This weekend, I’ll be traveling south to the National Hobo Convention in Britt, Iowa. I won’t be ridin’ the “high iron” of the trans-American railways as the storied hobos of the past were accustomed to, but I hope to learn about life on the road nonetheless.