Jason S. Harry

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always had a man-cave. It has been in various places, in different houses we have lived over the years. The last one was in a spare room in our current home. I came home one day about eight or nine years ago, and it was gone, transformed into a room for a kid who showed up to join our growing family. I did not mind. Besides, I was now a trucker instead of my previous life as a sales-rep, and I wasn’t home much. However, somewhere along the way, I took to writing, followed by photography. I bought a desk. I had nowhere to put it except for in our bedroom. That is okay, but sometimes I like to get up early when it’s still dark and write fast and furious, or stay up too late drinking beer while editing pictures and listening to music. Poor me, I am a dude with no man-cave. As time went on, it began to bother me. My writing slowed. I still did it if something was bothering me enough. For the most part, I lost interest because of my surround...

I’m a picture guy. As of this writing, I have 19,203 pictures on my laptop. It may be time to sort through them, get rid of the bad ones (there are many), and organize a little. I don’t think it means I have a problem. I do believe having that many pictures means that I really enjoy looking at stuff. I’ve said it before that I must have been blind in another life. I’m thankful for the gift of sight, and my Nikon does a great job of helping me to record the good things I see.     A few weeks ago, I showed up at work on a rainy afternoon. As I drove my car to my waiting truck, I noticed how cool the line of trucks looked in the reflections of some puddles that had formed thanks to the rain. I took a picture of it (it couldn’t be helped), and sent it to my friends at Volvo Trucks United States. A few days later, they shared it on their Facebook page , and the response was very good. Lots of people seemed to like it. Volvo trucks went so far as to use that picture in ...

I don’t remember half the stuff I dream about, maybe less. I suspect you are the same way, unless of course, you are one of the crazy types that keeps paper near the bed in an event of an emergency. When I wake up from a great dream, I like to savor the memory, then go back to sleep. If it’s a bad one, I enjoy realizing it was fake and closing my eyes again. (It’s always pleasant to find out that I’m not going to jail or getting divorced.) I recently enjoyed the most vivid dream that I can’t get past. I cannot let it go unwritten because it was that enjoyable. I was in an airplane. I don’t know what I was flying, only that it was a low to mid-wing of a silver color. I would speculate on make or model, but that won’t mean anything to you if you are not a fan or caught up in your knowledge of winged machines. I was flying alone in the front seat, a bubble canopy above me affording me a great view in all directions. Even though I could not see the backseat, I remember having th...

It was probably almost two years ago when it all happened. I was in the shower, washing off a day of work, when my wife yelled up the stairs, and around the corner. “Jason, your dad is on the phone!” I sighed and replied, “Can you tell him I am naked and wet, and will call him back in a few minutes?”  As I finished making myself beautiful, I wondered what that could be all about. Dad never calls me at home during the week. He knows I’m almost always out on the road. I wondered, with a little worry, if something terrible had happened.  My instincts turned out to be correct. My pop is a talented pilot teacher (AKA: Flight Instructor.) He uses two of our Aeronca Champs to give instruction to his students at the airport. When I called my dad back, he informed that one of his pupils had landed a wee bit short of the runway. It was by the luck of the draw that the airplane involved in the incident had my name on the door. My first concern, of course, was that no one got ...