We sped out of Mulhouse without ice but with enough food to last us a few days. We again hit the French equivalent of the Autobahn until Belfort, where we entered the world we’d live in for the next five days. The French two-lane highway barely spread the width of…
Leave a CommentAuthor: Patrick Dobson
Dr. Patrick Dobson is a work in progress until his termination. In the meantime, He is a writer, scholar, postman, and college professor living in Kansas City, MO.
The University of Nebraska Press published his travel memoirs, Canoeing the Great Plains: A Missouri River Summer in 2015 and Seldom Seen: A Journey into the Great Plains in 2009. Canoeing the Great Plains won the 2016 High Plains Book Award in Creative Nonfiction and the Thorpe Menn Literary Excellence Award. His essays and poems have been published in New Letters, daCunha, Kansas City Star, Garo, Wood Coin, and JONAHmagazine, and others.
Dobson earned a doctorate in American History and Literature at the University of Missouri-Kansas City in 2013. He has edited books, taught journalism, and been a union ironworker. He now teaches American History, Modern Latin American History, and Western Civilization at Johnson County Community College in Overland Park, KS.
He looks forward to hearing from you soon.
I had no idea what to expect from European camping. Years before, I’d seen campgrounds next to the Mosel near Trier and Koblenz where campers, tents, and RVs stood in tidy, crowded rows along the riverbank. It never looked very inviting to me. I was a backpacker. I’d slept out…
Leave a CommentJosef drove Larry and me to the train stop at Kanzem. Larry and I sat on the bench in the concrete shelter and talked about my extraordinary first day in a foreign country. I could only contrast the new world I experienced with my own. Buildings of timbers and plaster…
2 CommentsWhen I finished high school, I didn’t walk away. I ran away. I left all those terrible years behind me. I wanted a new life. It’s not that the people I ran around with in high school were so bad. But to me, back then, it didn’t matter. Of course,…
One CommentI used to shed friends as I did dirty socks. I drank and some said something about it. They pleaded with me. Don’t you see what you’re doing to yourself? When they did that, when they did what friends should, I avoided them, resentful and angry that they didn’t understand…
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