Author: John Morgan

What do cup-stacking and early-morning rising have in common? See how John Morgan is learning to treasure every moment of dad life.

Writing at my desk the other morning, I heard the chop-chop-chop of a kitchen knife. It was Atticus, slicing bananas and strawberries. The cutting was followed by the shoveling of…

Careful! Cut away from yourself.”  My seven childhood trips to the ER make me stress this rule more than most. Levon ripped open the cardboard. He was ready to get…

Before sixth grade even started, the rumors swirled. Everyone said Mrs. Lamb was tough, mean, and scary. Even guys from other schools knew her students were prisoners. But there was…

I’ll start running,” my son announced during dinner. “Really… why?” “Three miles, three days a week – for a phone.”  A few hours before this declaration, I shared the story…

Dad, we need some shelves.” “Why?” “The LEGOs need a place.” I liked the idea, so I went to task, jumping online to order some cool brackets. I ripped boards…

For our original spring break, we headed north to show our boys the Big Apple. Unlike other pre-kid trips, we sculpted a precise itinerary. We waited in the Times Square…

I wanted archery.  Instead, I ended up at the soccer station, running around orange cones and listening for the whistle. Coach smoked cigarettes between penalty kicks. He also showed up…

All I wanted as a kid was some sort of vehicle that would move me up the highest hill in the neighborhood. I didn’t want to pedal, so I checked…

August in Richmond makes some people miserable.  They complain about the humidity and the mosquitoes. Friday Cheers is long over. The tomato plants didn’t make it, thanks to the squirrels.…

I like those old Coleman magazine ads where the kids stand by the stream with fishing poles, reeling in trout; Mom kneels near the picnic basket, driving in tent stakes;…

On a special December Saturday in 1983, Dad woke up early to warm up the Toyota. By seven o’clock, my sister Susan and I were inside the car. Then, we…