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I really do enjoy the study of our history. I figure somebody should. And that is why I teach the American history class, to the often stubbornly resistant high school junior students. The knowledge of what has gone before, the triumphs and tragedies that our species has already experienced in its development, can serve to guide these young people along the uncertain path toward their futures. But only if they have learned these lessons. Hopefully, with this knowledge they can avoid committing many of the same mistakes. As Santayana once wrote: "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it". I figure it's my job to see to it that he is not proven correct.

So for the past 7 years since I graduated with my teaching credential, I've turned loose my passion for the study of history upon the heads of sleepy disinterested teenagers, with only the threat of not being able to graduate without passing my class prodding them into even showing up. Because I find history fun, I try to make it fun for my students. Sometimes, I succeed.

Ghost towns are one of my passions. I've traveled around the American west seeking them out. These old mining towns mostly seem to be located in the various deserts. Some ghost towns are well preserved, such as Calico in the Mojave Desert. Others are essentially gone save for a few bricks and some rusted metal. One of my favorites, Bodie, sits in the middle of nowhere, eight thousand feet up in the arid hills of the California/Nevada border. It's only a few dozen buildings and an ...

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