The Interpreted Rock

  By Stephen C. Schultz I walked in the door at home after a long day of work and made my way to the kitchen when my cell phone rang. It was my wife, calling from the doctor’s office. She mentioned that my 14-year-old daughter had an infection and needed antibiotics. She told me the doctor’s office had just called in the prescription to a Walgreens store down the street. I wasn’t excited to leave the house again, but I turned around, grabbed my keys, slipped my shoes back on, and headed out the door. I pulled into the parking lot and got out of my car. My short walk across the lot was met with a welcome blast of cool air as I stepped through the automatic doors. Even though the kids were back in school, it was still summer as far as the weather was concerned. Once inside, I made my way to the back corner of the store, where the pharmacy was, halfheartedly noticing the nondescript music playing overhead. As I rounded the corner of the aisle, I was met with a line of about ten p...

By Stephen C. Schultz The air was crisp with the feel of late summer. A dull glow was slowly appearing over the muted green horizon that was laced with the tops of large Douglas Fir trees. I stood next to the trunk of one of those very trees, gazing out upon the calm morning water that would bring with it a day of fishing. With my son, my father, my brother in-law and my nephew, we set out on the water. In fact, it was a day that began a week of travel that included three different lakes, fishing and family visits. The lakes were Odell Lake in Central Oregon, Collard Lake on the Oregon Coast and Bear Lake that splits the Utah and Idaho border. Activities included the before mentioned fishing but also much needed time with grandparents, uncles, aunts cousins and extended family. There was blood from the prick of a fish hook. There was sweat from time spent cleaning and sweeping the roof and rain gutters of grandparents too frail to keep up with the never-endin...