I am writing this on Sunday afternoon as the schedule will not allow for a Monday posting. Besides, as it is still a bit windy and cold it seemed an ideal time to respond to recent inquiries about my inner sanctum, the cubicle of inspiration where ideas are turned into books, road trip dreams are transformed into realities, and memories of good times are made manifest in the wide array of souvenirs and treasures.
From my earliest memories books have always been an integral part of my life. Dominating my inner sanctum are shelves filled to the breaking point with books. Hidden behind a set of double doors are shelves filled floor to ceiling with even more books.
Reading and research materials are not limited to a diverse array of books. Magazines, booklets, and promotional materials that range from AAA guide books from the 1920s, 1930s, 1940s, and 1950s to original copies of Harper’s Weekly from the late 19th century fill crooks and crevices.
The reference materials for eleven books and countless magazine articles fill notepads, notebooks, and pages of printed materials. The file cabinets are also filled to the bursting problem.
To provide incentive for long days at the keyboard, and a bit of inspiration for new projects, the office is filled with post cards and thank you notes from folks who used my books in their adventures or in planning them, souvenirs from adventures with my dearest friends, geological samples from various desert ventures, and gifts from friends. There is even a miniature steam engine that is fully operational, a little something my dad made in his spare time while serving as a machinists mate.
The swirl of memories in my inner sanctum is almost palpable. There is a map poster of Arizona created by Bob Waldmire, a calendar from a roadhouse in Brookton, Western Australia, given to us by a friend who passed away shortly after his last trip stateside, and a pair of miniature wooden shoes from a friend in the Netherlands.

The large piece of obsidian on the window sill was found on an expedition into the vast Hualapai Valley in search of petroglyphs. A hood ornament is from a vintage Dodge found nose down in a sand wash, and vintage glassware from my mother’s collection brings back memories of farm auctions in Michigan. Bumper stickers inspire thoughts of pie at the Midpoint Café and visits to Fran’s store in Adrian Texas.
The inner sanctum is one part oasis, one part office, and two parts fortress of solitude. With the exception of a special place on Route 66, or a rocky knoll with million dollar view where sage scented breezes swirl the desert sands, this is my haven.


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