The Summer Surprise

In this special episode, The Summer Surprise . . .

Well, howdy there! It's me, Huck Finn, and lemme tell ya, somethin' special happened just the other day. We called it "The Summer Surprise.”

Phew-wee! That ol' post box, it coughed up somethin' good! Wasn't no bills, nor them pesky ads, and thankfully, no regular ol' rocks neither. Nope, this here was a letter, folded up neat as a pin, looked a bit like one o' them school lockers, just sittin' there waitin' to be opened.

It was from young Sierra, a mighty fine friend, and she'd gone and made some pure, honest-to-goodness artwork with her own two hands. My fingers they was all thumbs, just itching to see what kind of wild wonder she'd whipped up this time.

I unfolded that paper, careful-like, you know, and bless my bare feet, there it was! A picture of a whole gymnasium and a mini-soccer field, all done up in colors that just popped. She'd used crayons and pencils, and you could tell she knew what she was doin'. Little basketballs and soccer balls, they just warmed a fellow's heart. It was a whole little world, right there, just for to make my day brighter.

And then, on the other side, neat as you please, was a thank-you note, writ right there in pencil. Wasn't that just sweet? She was sayin' thanks for a LEGO thing I'd sent her, a little summertime gift—just a plain old message of kindness, the kind that sticks with ya.

Best part, none o' that tap-tappin' on screens, no glowin' lights from them newfangled contraptions. Just paper and pencil, pure and simple, and it made me feel good all over. In this world full o' beeps and flashes and hummin' noises, a thank-you writ by hand ain't never a sad thing. It carries a feelin', a real personal touch, and it tells ya they're thankful, powerful much.

So, three cheers for the mailbox, and three cheers for the post! For kindness and folks makin' things with their own two hands, from one end o' the country to the other! And a big ol' hurrah for Sierra, whose smart and thoughtful art just settled a happy, warm feelin' right in my heart!

Well, I reckon' that's all for now. Y'all stay curious, keep makin' things, and don't be afraid to ask questions. I'll see ya next time!

Your friend, Huck Finn 😉

Comments

Paris – the End of Silence

✈️ In this special episode: Paris – the End of Silence Sometimes, connection arrives in the most unexpected form—not through grand gestures, but through a quiet voice carried by technology. In a Paris apartment, I finally understood my family’s words . . . and felt my mother’s presence in every sentence. Since I was a little boy, France has been both a beautiful and frustrating paradox in my life. Every six to nine years, my mother, Mauricette, would take my brothers and me back to La Rochelle to visit our French family. The moment we arrived, the air would fill with a sound I loved but couldn’t share in—the rapid-fire, musical rhythm of French. My aunts, uncles, and cousins would warmly sweep me into hugs and kisses, their words flowing like a lovely melody I couldn’t quite catch. I’d smile brightly, trying to communicate with my eyes and hands. But as soon as we stepped off the plane, my mother and her sister-in-law, Joséan, started talking animatedly. They were gone, chatting h...

Pushing the Pause Button

In this episode, Pushing the Pause Button: Stepping Off the Treadmill Hello, friends — If you're reading this, I'm already off the grid. Today begins a much-needed vacation, and for the next few weeks, On the Fly is taking a break right along with me. For a long time, my inner voice has said, 'Keep every commitment, no matter what.' That's meant early mornings, long days, and a calendar packed with posts, podcasts, and projects I couldn't seem to say no to. I've been trying to be the tireless workhorse—but that kind of grind doesn't end well. Lately, I've noticed I'm not quite myself—shorter fuse, louder sighs, and a few too many grumbles (Lori deserves a medal). That's when you know it's time to hit pause before the spark burns out. So, I'm stepping back to rest, recharge, and remember what it feels like to not live by the next deadline: no tech, no to-do lists, just some space to breathe. Thank you, truly, for all your support and ...

Noirmoutier: An Ocean Between Us, Gone in a Moment

In this episode, Noirmoutier: An Ocean Between Us, Gone in a Moment. Sometimes love waits half a century for its moment — and when it finally arrives, time doesn’t stand still; it disappears. The moment I stepped off the train in Nantes, it felt like time froze. There she was — my cousin Michèle — waiting on the platform, arms waving desperately. When we finally embraced, the fifty years that had passed between us disappeared in an instant. The melody in her voice was the same, but softer than I remembered. We both shed tears of joy that only come from love long overdue. “I’m so happy you are here,” she whispered, her voice trembling. Thank goodness for the translation app on my phone, because the conversation began immediately — fast, fluid, and unstoppable. The Frenzy of Catching Up As we drove for about an hour to the tiny town of L’Épine on the Island of Noirmoutier, the words kept tumbling out. Michèle and her husband, Alain, are the most gracious hosts — but my new challe...

Our Journey to Avignon

🇫🇷 Lost in Transition: Our Journey to Avignon (Part 1) When everything that can go wrong—does—sometimes grace still finds you. Our Monday morning trip began on the quiet island of Noirmoutier , where salt marshes and sea breezes whisper of simpler days. From there, our early morning drive was uneventful; we arrived at the Nantes station with plenty of time to spare. From Nantes to Paris Montparnasse, everything went smoothly—so we thought, until it didn't. That's when things started to unravel. If you've never traveled the Paris Metro , imagine a vast underground maze pulsing beneath the city—corridors twisting into one another, trains roaring in and out of the dark, staircases that rise and fall like riddles. It's efficient, yes—but only if you know where you're going. We had over an hour and a half to make our next train to Avignon —plenty of time. Or so we believed. We needed to reach the Gare de Lyon station, where our TGV (high-speed train) was headed south...

On The Fly

Search This Blog