Tied to the Post

TIED TO THE POSTby Steve & Barry Simpson White hot bolts of lightning bee-bopped across the darkened horizon, as we topped out on the south side of Devil’s Canyon. It looked as if an electrified game of pin ball was being played above the torn and ragged, moisture-laden clouds. I...
TIED TO THE POSTby Steve & Barry Simpson Once she hitched her wagon to Duke, Momma Rose kept ‘em coming fast and furiously. It was the middle 1950s, and Duke and Rose were newly wed. You know the routine, “First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes baby in the baby carriage...
TIED TO THE POSTby Steve & Barry Simpson Most Sunday mornings, I am the designated manager at Twin Rocks Café. That is my reward for not attending church. While the cooks prepare breakfast, fry bacon, steam oatmeal, and bake biscuits, I sometimes stand at the south-facing picture...
TIED TO THE POSTby Steve & Barry Simpson It was a hot Saturday afternoon, and I was in the yard pulling, chopping, hoeing, and raking weeds. As my mother will attest, when I was young it was virtually impossible to convince me weeding was honorable work. I wanted nothing to do with...
TIED TO THE POSTby Steve & Barry Simpson “You really don’t have to buy this rug if you don’t want to!” commented Edith Martin while she was showing Steve and I her weaving the other day. I looked up at her with questioning eyes and asked her why she would say such a thing. She...
Tied to the Postby Steve & Barry Simpson One of the images that indelibly etched itself into my mind over the past 20 years is that of an old Woodie station wagon parked alongside a dirt back road leading to Shiprock, NM. The doors of the vehicle are flung open and the passenger...
TIED TO THE POSTby Steve & Barry Simpson Most of the stories Steve and I share concern what goes on inside the Kokopelli doors of the trading post or the glass doors of the cafe.  Some of the most interesting and amusing people we see never cross our threshold. Today, I believe we...
TIED TO THE POSTby Steve & Barry Simpson It was a late May afternoon at Twin Rocks Trading Post, and I was sitting in my office trying not to nod off. The last time I fell asleep at my desk the resulting crash raised a bump on my forehead and Barry and Priscilla unkindly referred to...
TIED TO THE POSTby Steve & Barry Simpson A businessman walked into the trading post and said to me, “Can you help me out friend? I have been on the road longer than expected and am worried my wife may be angry and have the door barred when I get home.” Looking at him suspiciously...
TIED TO THE POSTby Steve & Barry Simpson I was having a bad day! It was getting on toward evening, and because of extenuating circumstances, I had not gotten much of anything done at the trading post. I think it was the first telephone call of the morning that got things started off...

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San Juan Record

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PO Box 879
Monticello, UT 84535

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