By SEAN DIETRICH I was maybe 5 years old when I had my first encounter with an ice cream truck. It was a late 70s model Chevy Step-Van, rolling through our neighborhood like the U.S.S. Wisconsin. The music on the truck’s loudspeaker was a slow rendition of “Pop Goes...

By SEAN DIETRICH It’s raining in central Alabama. I am on my porch, barefoot, watching the rainfall, hypnotized by the sound. Rain can do strange things to a man. I come from a long line of rain-watchers, horse thieves and used car salesmen. We are a barefoot people....

By SEAN DIETRICH I hung an American flag on our house today. We just moved in. We have only been living in Birmingham for three days, but I thought it was time we flew the Stars and Stripes. This house dates back to 1923, so this porch has probably seen its share of...

By SEAN DIETRICH The old man in the crowded hotel dining room was wearing dual hearing aids. He smiled and greeted me with a voice that was loud enough to change the migratory patterns of geese. “You can sit by me!” he said, patting the seat. Truthfully, I did not...