I can't help myself. Maybe I have deep, unresolved issues when it comes to God and religion ("God is a loving presence...God is dead...No, God never was... God is just an absentee landlord"), but I just can't stop myself from visiting old churches ("Look at that lovely church; I wonder what it is like inside..."). I
On Friday, the back seat of my car was strewn with the remains of half-eaten food: part of an apple turnover, a bite of something called a Blarney Stone (a sweet cake lathered in frosting and rolled in crushed peanuts), half of a pizza, a plastic container full of barely sampled spaghetti (minus the meatball)—the
I just published another article in Big River magazine, this one about the legacy of Depression-era public works projects along the Upper Mississippi River. Head to their website for info on where you can buy the magazine.
Dubuque’s capitalists struck it rich and poured money into extravagant buildings to prove their worth. Fortunately for us, many of those buildings are still around, including four churches that would be treasures in a city much larger than modest Dubuque.
Last week I found a cheap room in southwest Wisconsin, less than 10 minutes from downtown Dubuque, in an area rife with supper clubs. If you aren’t familiar with the concept, supper clubs are part fine dining experience—what was considered fine dining in the 1950s, anyway—and part neighborhood tavern: you can savor a juicy steak
I have a hard time writing blogs while I’m on the road, because my days are packed from dawn to dusk. Yesterday, for example, I ran around Dubuque for about 10 hours checking out another church, 5 more B&Bs, some shops, and a library. By the time I finished dinner, it was 8:30 and my energy level was near
