Welcome!

Lashley Lane, or parts of it, has been a pen name of mine over the years. I treasured my life on that little street. I was safe and cherished and nurtured, imprinted with good memories. We are way Beyond that now but the influence of those early years is embedded deeply.

I’ll be remembering real life and musing about this and that from the past, present, and future. I remain fiercely loyal to the ideal of family and friends being redeemable just as you and I are redeemable, so you’ll just have to trust me with occasional details as I honor privacy. Above all, please realize my Christian point of view. I only hope it will be obvious.

Be sure to click on the navigation bar to find your way around. Happy reading!

LATEST POSTS

Ebenezer

The smell of wood smoke rises from the old stone chimney of the Ramble In if my eyes are closed and my head held at a proper tilt. I can feel the thin Rocky Mountain air in my well-adapted young lungs and hear pine needle covered trails crunch under my feet as I scramble up,
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Dominick and the Duck

Far far away, many many years ago in a Kindergarten classroom on the last day of school, five-year old Dominick gave me a little clay duck. Well, I’ve always called it a duck but truthfully its identity is a bit vague. You decide. To reveal the immediate thought that ran through my head might paint
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A Whittled Goodbye

There were a lot of words on this page just a few minutes ago. It felt a little silly when all I really want to say is, “thank you.” So I whittled a tree down to a toothpick. Writing an occasional word to you has been a unique journey for me, a steep learning curve
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Mrs. Farkas

On a narrow street in a small city in Idaho there lived an unassuming little lady who saved our family’s musical bacon. She really did. No two ways about it. Ruth Farkas of Koster Street. She was a missing puzzle piece we didn’t know we needed. At one point we had three kids in instruction
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The Streets of Laredo

Question for you: What’s more important, striving to be the descendant that previous generations would be proud of? Or working every day to become an ancestor that future generations would want to claim as theirs? You think on that for a while and we’ll circle back. Very briefly I’d like to sum up what’s been
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Heat in the Pipes

The following was written 2 1/2 years ago. Much has changed. All these words still hold true but contain an additional brightness, an urgency to be noticed. We do not know if those we interacted with are still living. We do not know if the buildings we entered and enjoyed are still standing. What we
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