Mark Holmberg

Our steady old workboat anchored on the Sound side of Bear Island State Park NC last evening.
There was no one else on whole five miles of pristine Atlantic beach, even though it was a perfect June day: a light onshore breeze, mostly smooth waters, no footprints on the sand and treasures always just a few steps away.
Had my first ocean swim of the year and gave thanks for my good fortune.
So much of coastal Carolina is marshy, knee-deep to an egret.
So many tough channels to navigate. You can easily get stuck if you don’t know them and the tides.
Shallow-draft skiffs for crab, oyster, clam and netting may not be shiny or pretty, but they are made for this coast.
Our workboat is a Diamond, made in Snead’s Ferry 40 years ago.
It’s called a well boat or a net boat because the outboard is in a well about a third of the way from the stern, so you can work your nets and pots from the rear without fear of your gear getting tangled in the prop.
It’s so ugly it’s beautiful.

This bit of fiction should be true:

Some of you have asked how I became famed as “The Sleeper,” the wealthy author of novels that lull readers into deep, restful sleep graced with happy, transformative dreams.
We all know “a good night’s sleep” is absolutely critical to peace, health and longevity.
Since we began medical science 5000 years ago we’ve known how proper rest is the actual Fountain of Youth.
Ancient philosophers knew what you thought and did when you were asleep determined the arc of your waking hours.
It’s why we’ve been saying “good night” and “sleep well” or “sleep tight” for eight centuries.
In this country we spend $64 billion a year trying to sleep better. More than $430 million alone for over-the-counter medications to help us snooze.
For much longer man has been “counting sheep” and other head games in the search for drowsiness.
We’ve also known the power of the written word since it was birthed in Mesopotamia and Egypt sometime around 3200 BC.
Shared words have spread religion, wars, peace, knowledge on every subject and feeling known to man.
Why not sleep?
We’ve been using techniques for inviting sleep like “counting sheep” forever.
Why not the printed word?
My fascination with the idea began in elementary school while trying to learn from textbooks.
Some were written in a way so the information would glide easily into your head and stay there.
But often you’d have to read a paragraph over and over before you could really understand the information it was trying to convey.
The harder it is to digest, the quicker it will be forgotten.
And thus I learned about the crucial concept of sentence rhythm.
We all have it naturally. It’s how we speak. (Look how simply these past two sentences are written; how easy they are to understand.)
But too many of us don’t write the way we speak. Especially the intellectuals among us.
All too often, we produce sentences that repel your eyesight’s ability to lift them from the page in front of you and install them into the thought processes creating memory. (Like the paragraph you just read. Terrible, right? It has bad rhythm.)
But then there’s the odd rhythm stuff - like Shakespeare - whose sums are greater than their parts and therefore worm there way evermore deeply into our consciousness.
So then, how to assemble words in a way to prepare the mind and soul to slip into Our Other World?
Like many of you, I’d “read myself to sleep” as a youngster.
But there were action/adventure/mystery/thriller novels that had the opposite effect. They “keep you on the edge of your seat.”
I found reading encyclopedias were effective sleep-bringers because they were interesting without being exciting.
But besides being bulky, they have what I call “dry” rhythm. Sparse, space-saving sentences with solid pacing designed to convey the optimal amount of information with the fewest words. (Kind of clippy, like the last sentence.)
I learned that sleepiest books have “wet” rhythm - sentences with great rhythm dripping with detail.
They don’t just convey the information, they color it with sights, sounds, textures and, most wonderfully, smells.
The detective doesn’t “walk through the garden,” he walks you through it so you, too, can smell the loam and evergreen. You hear and even feel the damp leaves underfoot.
All this study helped me in my fairly succesful, 30-year career as a journalist. I was frequently told my reports were easy to read from start to finish, which is a grand achievement in the top-heavy world of news writing.
By the time I was ready to retire I had amassed volumes of the sleepiest writing I had found in my lifetime.
Not surprisingly, some of it is the world’s most popular and enduring literature. But at the same time, much of it was panned as poor writing because of its simplicity.
The Sherlock Holmes stories are a prime example. Arthur Conan Doyle was considered a hack by his contemporaries.
I’d take a story from my collection and pull apart its pieces to see how the nouns, verbs, pronouns and adjectives fit together.
I’d cut sentences in half and reverse them.
I counted syllables until the math of them became a second language.
Eventually, the magic combination came to me and my stories could lull even the most brittle insomniac into deep, restful, healing sleep.
I’ve rejected the accolades; the Nobel Peace Prize, the Pulitzer, the Distinguished Service Award from the American Medical Association, the Presidential Medal of Freedom.
I didn’t do this for fame.
I did it to prove that the pen is still mightier than the sword.
To show that the right word is worth a thousand pictures, instead of the other way around.
It’s so easy to forget the power of the printed word in this era of flashbang imagery via the worldwide web that connects us all but also disconnects us from healthy reality.
I know some of you are thinking artificial intelligence would’ve eventually figured out what I’ve done.
But that’s not true.
A.I. doesn’t need to sleep. We do.
Desperately.
And there’s this whole other world - another dimension - out there beyond the veil of wakefulness, largely unexplored and just waiting for us to finally find the Secret to Life.
Sweet dreams, my friends.

While doing some heavy demo at our place in Ohio recently I met a member of a fourth-generation steel mill family living out in the beautiful rolling countryside in Paris, Pa., west of Pittsburgh.
Next thing you know, I’m invited to play horseshoes at the family/neighborhood headquarters.
Hot dogs. Bonfire. Cool, fun. Heartwarming.
What a cast of characters! (Just a few of them in this photo.)
I felt so honored. And accepted.
For me, it’s priceless to really experience a new community so deeply.
This has happened at so many places, so many times, in this unique area where Pennsylvania, Ohio and West Virginia intersect.
As a newbie, I was welcomed warmly at the local pool. At the several different churches I’ve attended. The taverns and music halls. The hardware and music stores. The sweet local rec center. Parks, car shows and concerts.
For the past two years we have been exploring the once-mighty Steel Valley while rehabbing a cool 1926 home overlooking the Ohio River in Steubenville Ohio.
It’s such a different place.
Parts of it are still reeling after nearly all the mills snapped shut 40 years ago due to international competition, failure to modernize and union strikes.
Why it is now called The Rust Belt.
But generations of mill life left a beautiful stamp on the people here.
So many are local, unlike much of this country. It’s surprising how many here have lived in the same place their whole lives. For generations.
And they look after each other. So supportive! They’re open, friendly. Loving. Close-knit.
After all, their parents and grandparents worked side-by-side. Neighborhood taverns and churches are such a thing.
It’s rare to find this much universal warmth.
(But don’t come disrespecting the area or the vibe. That’s not tolerated.)
These days, in too many parts of our country we don’t know our neighbors or hang out with them.
Some of you greyheads remember when neighbors were part of our support structure, how to live well.
It’s been so heartening to feel this again for the past two years.
But the house is finally finished. Up for sale.
Time to move on to whatever’s next, which includes finishing our Barn in Tennessee and hanging with Mr. Cat at the NC coast, when he’s not hosting his BnB.
Friends, anyone looking for a less-expensive place to live - a place with soul - should check this area out.
Pittsburgh has the lowest median home prices of any major city in the United States.
If you’re handy, you can buy a fixer-upper for under $100k throughout the region.
We paid $42k for a solid house with an extra lot and an amazing view.
Yes, we had to redo plumbing, wiring, nearly all the ceilings, kitchen, basement, add a bath, etc.
But just about anywhere else that same house, as it was, would’ve sold for three or four times the price.
Pittsburgh is so cool!! And we’ve really enjoyed Wheeling, W. Va.
Sewickley, Pa, just up the Allegheny River from Pittsburgh, is an absolute must-see town.
The architecture shaped by steel wealth is so varied, interesting and distinctive, all built when this region attracted skilled artisans from Europe who used the best materials and construction practices.
It’s a mid-century-modern wonderland, but with so many other lovely styles to explore.
I think this area is the best-kept secret in the nation.

Driving over the Kanawha River in Charleston, West Virginia yesterday evening.
I’ve been wondering:
Who is making crazy big money on these fuel prices?

Here’s a perfectly good human - a contributor, educator - ruined for life because he felt compelled to take down the Trump administration.
He’s one of millions who believe whatever Trump is doing simply can not be tolerated.
Only a very few resort to physical violence, but verbal and written mayhem is common among those with TDS, including much of our media.
Daily, hourly, they whip up frenzies over EVERYTHING Trump does - even things previous presidents have done or wanted to do.
This poor young man’s manifesto (link below) is filled with the hysterical buzzwords commonly used by those twitching with anti-Trump fever.
This viral passion creates human sacrifices like this one and deceased street soldiers like Renee Good and Alex Pretti.
All this ceaseless opposition is like a religion in its fervency; the way so many are consumed by it. (Just look at all those saying this attack was staged.)
It is hurting so many people. Lost sleep, anxiety, stress-related illness, lost jobs/friends/families.
Lost lives.
To borrow from “The Bourne Identity”:
“Look at this.
Look at what they make you give.”
You’ve heard me rant about the dangers of this frenzy. It is so out-of-proportion with reality.
The right hasn’t done all this protesting, hating, attacking, violating others’ rights, when the left controlled the direction of the country for so many years.
And many of us believed then just as strongly the country was being wrecked by leftist leaders.
Disagree with all things Trump all you want. (But why not really listen to him a little bit?)
Hate him if you must.
Just don’t lose your mind or your place in life. Don’t break the law or hurt people.
Relax and breathe.
There’s so much good going on all around us.
There’s beauty and joy in every day, just waiting for you.
It’s all going to be fine.

Trump wanted the show to go on.
It’s a dangerous job, he said - the threat can’t stop the work.
I think he strongly handled last night’s near mass-shooting at the storied White House Correspondents’ Dinner.
Our media will be treating Trump kindly for a few days after basically sharing a foxhole with him.
“I saw a room that was just totally unified,” Trump said after. “It was, in one way, very beautiful.”
Of course, anti-Trumpers will rip him for this regardless; say it was staged, mock him for not cowering or overplaying the incident.
But you can safely bet the heaviest grumbling about the new White House ballroom is over.
Also over: the days of having so many of the nation’s tiptop leaders in the same room at the same time in a public-access facility like that.
We could’ve been down to the White House janitor as President.
Crazy man.

We drove across the 1937-built Piedmont Dam in southern Ohio Tuesday during a beautiful spring tour of the small roads there.
It’s one of the 450 or so lakes and 700-plus dams the Army Corps of Engineers has made for us across this water-rich land.
As we celebrate our nation’s 250th birthday, consider that the Army’s Engineering Corps is one year older.
In 1775 the Continental Congress organized the corps because they knew our fledgling nation would need engineers skilled in designing rugged military fortifications.
The Corps is very cool. And the fighting’-buildin’ Navy Seabees as well.
I don’t think either of them get enough credit.
In order to win the fight, you’ve got to get there first while protecting what you’ve got.
The Army’s original fort-makers went on to shape some of this country’s great recreational assets that also serve as freshwater reservoirs and tidy sources of clean, green energy.
The Corps’ motto translates as “Let Us Try.”

Jamie Ding may be the “nicest Jeopardy champ ever,” as the Wall Street Journal opines.
He’s got to be one of the most mild-mannered.
His sweet, embarrassed smiles; the downward glances as if he’s bowing all the time; the hand gestures.
He’s had one lucky escape and a couple of legit challenges.
But mostly he’s running away with the contests.
Gently.
Could he reach or pass the greatest champions?
He’s in fifth place all time.
Closing in on:
James Holzhauer (32 wins)
Matt Amodio (38)
Amy Schneider (40)
And Ken Jennings (74)
How far can he go?

Virginia jumping to a 10 to 1 Democrat to Republican takeover in the U.S. House of Representatives in a state that votes 46 percent Republican is pro-wrestling-level cheating.
Consider the word “representative.”
It’s so blatant and in-your-face it would be hilarious if democracy wasn’t being bashed over the head.
The symbol for Gov. Spanberger’s administration should be a folding chair.
No other state that redistricted this cycle comes even close to this low of a blow. (Texas’ effort gave Republicans a 5-1 advantage. Virginia doubled that for Democrats in a state that has a smaller majority control.)
I always thought of Virginia as an honest, honorable state that respected decency and tradition. Common sense.
No other state has birthed as many Presidents.
I am stunned city dwellers were able to ram this through and now have the gall to whine that it’s being challenged in court.
Governor Folding Chair says Virginia will go back to bipartisan redistricting after Trump is gone.
By then Sweet Virginia will be in the clutches of overly liberal sourpusses bent on making it another pasty-faced Nanny State.

I’m just seeing that the Dems have trotted out former President Obama to shill for Virginia’s blatant redistricting steal that makes Texas’ effort look childish.
Obama stoops to larceny. Pretty sad.
If this thing passes, Virginia Republicans - 46 percent of voters - will have just one House seat to the Dems 10.
That’s 10 Democrat House seats for 52 percent of the voters. The rest get one voice in Congress.
Look at how the state voted in 2024.
All the power will go to city dwellers, largely consumers.
Those who farm, ranch, log, mine, manufacture, build and live in the country, largely producers, will have little or no representation.
Really?
The voting map in much-larger Texas is even more red, with 56 percent of the population voting Republican.
They’ll now have 29 or 30 representatives in the House to the Dems’ 7 or 8 seats.
That’s less than 5 to 1.
Not 10 to 1.
Much-smaller Virginia is trying to double what Texas did.
Governor Spanberger, who is proving to be a slippery character, is pulling a fast-one for her national party, not Virginia, after saying she had no plans to gerrymander during her campaign.
Obama even says at the end of his pitch, don’t worry, after the election, you’ll go back to bipartisan redistricting.
Vote yes if you will, but don’t pretend it’s anything other than in-your-face, double-down cheating.