John P. O'Grady

Overheard during Dour Hour down at Pandora’s Tavern, a guy whispering into his phone: “Where I’m calling from is not far from here.” It brought back the memory of a fellow I once spotted sitting...

In the rain shadow of the Sierra Nevada, we spotted an old hotel. It looked haunted, so we investigated. In the lobby was a vintage Apple Macintosh SE. Or something like it. The machine...

Yesterday we stopped for lunch at a pub located in a former train depot in an old Connecticut mill town. We were the only patrons besides a drunk guy at the bar. As is...

In the Land of Rip Van Winkle, you spot the sign. Your journey ends here, alone. Check in at the Sleepy Dutchman Motel. Enter your room. Drop your bag beside the bed. A century...

Run, Everybody, run! See Everybody run!

“We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun. . . . .” The entrance to Westwood Memorial Park, Los Angeles, final resting place of Rod McKuen. Gone one year today....

A cow escapes from a slaughterhouse in Queens, New York. “Cow on the run,” report the people to the authorities. Officers arrive on the scene. They manage to corner and corral the wayward cow,...

Last night was the coldest of winter so far. This morning, a waning crescent of moon in the pre-dawn sky. Venus and Saturn too. The sky was the color of an indigo bunting. I...