Richard Crowson

Had an interesting conversation with a turkey the other day. We were in line together at the grocery.

I first experienced zombies around 1974 or so. That’s when a Memphis TV station decided to run “Night of the Living Dead.” Scared the bejabbers out of me. If I’d had some 2-by-4s and nails handy, I’d have secured my doors and windows.

How could I have known, all those years ago, that someday our nation would elect a zombie for President? And yet, here we are. That’s how hot zombies are – that we’d actually elect one as president. And this one scares me every bit as much as my first Night of the Living Dead viewing.

Ah, fall! Tumbling down between the branches of our government come the plummeting shreds of our Constitution.

Perhaps there’s a natural impulse we have, maybe from way back in our earlier evolution, to pay special attention to the negatives. Stay alert. There was a tiger in a clump of grass last week. Could be one in that one over there. A dark cloud brought troublesome weather. Is that another dark cloud forming in the west? Expect the worst in order to survive the next threat.

I’m a fan of Wichita’s Century II. It’s an iconic component of our city’s skyline. The architecture is unique and eye-catching. It was designed by John Hickman, a student of Frank Lloyd Wright, and it looks like it. Sand-colored pillars represent our Kansas wheat fields. The baby-blue domed roof is a reminder of our big, beautiful Kansas sky.

Greenland for sale or rent, Vlady Putin’s my best friend
No wall but I’ll build it yet, I ain’t got no White House pet
I grab ladies by their lady parts
I ride out hurricanes in my golf carts
I gotta ego bigger than anyone else
King of the world!

This commentary originally aired on September 3, 2010.

Isn’t passion great? Not the romantic kind of “oh, baby, I love you, I love you” passion, but the everyday sort of passion that people feel for practically every kind of imaginable thing.

This is treehouse weather. The hot, dog days of summer. The right weather for climbing up into the deep green shade of an oak tree’s canopy. Sweet relief.

God bless Bela Fleck. He has reached the pinnacle of success in the banjo world. By that I mean that his is so well-respected by musicians of every stripe that he can speak the truth.

This commentary originally aired on July 15, 2016

I got tired of tripping over our old dining chairs, stored in our basement. We replaced them months ago, but I tend to hang onto things too long. This past Saturday, we put all seven out by the curb with a sign saying “free.”

Throughout the day, I’d glance out the window, expecting them to be gone. But, no. There they sat, as cars impertinently flew by.