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
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O Christmas Tree
It’s easy to blame 2020 for many a habit or “quirk” as I like to call them, but if we’re honest, a few of those tendencies were already firmly established before this year rolled around and we’d best just own up to it. Yes, I speak of myself. You’re off the hook. I have a…
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This Is Now
Around the time that first memories were becoming solid and not just fleeting images of grandmas and old houses and smells and scenes, I can remember a Thanksgiving in Houston, Texas at my Great Uncle Clyde and Aunt Juanita’s house. We’d traveled there from Colorado and when I crawled into my lovingly prepared cot at…
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‘Til It’s Gone
I appreciate a good 2020 joke as much as the next guy. My kids and I zing ’em back and forth within text and messenger threads–“Say, did you hear this one?”– most every day. And 2020 is no longer just the name of a year. It’s an outright adjective for whatever’s run amok. “That’s so…
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What Makes Them Tropical?
Several years ago, before COVID temporarily wrecked summer camp for kids, I was the Snack Shack Lady at junior camp in the woods of western Oregon. In case you’ve never been in contention for that job, it is a highly coveted position, especially if your husband is the camp R.N. and you get to sleep…
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Francie’s Chicken Salad
She was a tiny little old white-haired lady from New Jersey whose energy defied her age despite her occasional smoking and addiction to daytime television. And she was my first best friend in Arkansas. The memory of how I came to meet Francie is murky but it feels like it was somewhere on the upstairs…
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A Chickahominy Dream Come True
Dear boys and girls, Maybe you recall the very first post on this blog was about Chickahominy Reservoir in eastern Oregon and my weird unfulfilled curiosity about that place. You’ve probably been wondering if that long-standing dream was ever realized. Well, wonder no more. Here’s Bob representing our mutual enthusiasm on the day we finally…
Beyond Lashley Lane 