A friend asked me the other day why, if I’m such a radical, don’t I write about political subjects on this blog? I thought about it a little. I am very political in my walking around life. There isn’t a day when I don’t think deeply about democracy, economics, and…
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.
Last night Nick and I picked up his friend Xavier and we took them to an event to raise money for their school robotics club. I just dropped them off. I could tell that Nick didn’t have any plans for me to stay. After their deal, which I guess took…
Leave a CommentMy students are a varied bunch. Some are engaged and love to come to class. They study and turn in good written work. Others don’t feel much one way or the other about the class or their educations. A few don’t have a clue. They come to class out of…
Leave a CommentInsomnia plagued me for thirty years before I went to the mental hospital in March 2011. I would fall asleep at the end of the day quite easily. Then, about an hour and a quarter or an hour and a half later, I would wake. The work getting back to…
Leave a CommentIn the exact middle of the Flint Hills, the undulating land rolled out in all directions. The moon shone so brightly that it brought out the color of the prairie. It was open range. Temporary cattle fence stood around a feed plot. A white-painted truck loader stretched up like an…
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