There comes a point in a man’s senior years when he’s tempted to ask…
Do I still have a sense of style… or do I merely remember having one?

The trouble is, those two feelings can be very easily confused—especially once comfort enters the conversation.

In this Clarence Mills tale, a well-intentioned choice of attire sets off a chain of events that raises serious questions about fashion, friendship… and whether certain garments should ever be given a second chance.

Because while style may evolve over the years… judgment doesn’t always keep pace.

And occasionally, what feels like a perfectly reasonable decision at home can take on an entirely different character once it’s introduced to the outside world.

If you’ve ever taken a second look and wished you hadn’t…
If you’ve ever trusted comfort just a little too much…
If you’ve ever discovered—far too late—that something should never have left the house…

You may feel very much at home here.

Settle in—this is one fashion decision that doesn’t quite go according to plan.

I’ll be right here Thursday morning with another Clarence Mills tale. And if you’d like the next one to arrive without any effort at all, you’re always welcome to follow along.

I’ve always believed there are two kinds of drivers in this world.

Those who think the speed limit is merely a suggestion… and those who believe it’s a sacred promise made between themselves, the highway department, and—occasionally—the law.

I fall very firmly into the second category.

Which is why what happens next came as something of a surprise.

In this Clarence Mills tale, what begins as a routine drive turns into an encounter with the town’s newest police cruiser—an impressive, heavily equipped machine that seems to have just about every feature imaginable.

And when a simple traffic stop becomes a full-scale demonstration of lights, sirens, gadgets, and enthusiastic explanations… things begin to drift ever so slightly off course.

Because it turns out that sometimes it’s not the driving that causes the trouble…

It’s everything that happens once you’ve already pulled over.

If you’ve ever been quite certain you were doing everything right…
If you’ve ever found yourself caught up in something that grew far beyond its original purpose…
If you’ve ever watched a simple situation quietly unravel in ways no one quite expected…

You may feel very much at home here.

Settle in—this is one stop where the real trouble doesn’t begin until after everything appears to be under control.

I’ll be right here Thursday morning with another Clarence Mills tale. And if you’d like the next one to arrive without any effort at all, you’re always welcome to follow along.

Before we get going, I should probably offer a small, neighborly warning.

This story starts out innocently enough—with memories… the joys of childhood… and the strange things we choose to remember… along with the even stranger things we’re very grateful not to.

It’s a tale about infancy, and those earliest life lessons we never quite signed up for… yet somehow managed to carry with us anyway.

The trouble is, some lessons have a way of sticking around a lot longer than they’re welcome.

And occasionally… they come back to introduce themselves at the worst possible moment.

If you’ve ever looked back and wondered who on earth taught you that…
If you’ve ever tried to unlearn something that had no business lasting into adulthood…
If you’ve ever discovered that your earliest “education” may have left a few… lingering effects…

You may feel very much at home here.

Settle in—though fair warning… this is one life lesson that doesn’t let go easily.

I’ll be right here Thursday morning with another Clarence Mills tale. And if you’d like the next one to arrive without any effort at all, you’re always welcome to follow along.

Welcome back. We’re officially into Volume 3 now, which means we’ve unpacked, found the good mugs, and decided to set sail once again on another collection of perfectly avoidable misadventures.

I may be accused of being naïve at times, but whenever I’ve visited my family doctor, I’ve always assumed my main concerns would be the doctor himself, his nurse, or perhaps the receptionist.

Deal with them, I told myself, and I’d be home free.

I did say I was naïve, didn’t I?

In this tale from Clarence Mills, a routine medical visit reveals that the real challenge may not lie inside the clinic at all—but somewhere along the way there… and, more importantly, on the way back.

There’s an old saying that getting there is half the fun. I can tell you from experience that this is not a theory you want to test.

And you’ll notice there isn’t a corresponding saying about getting back being half the fun…

If you’ve ever underestimated a simple trip…
If you’ve ever discovered that the journey had other plans…
If you’ve ever longed for the part where you were supposed to be “home free”…

You may feel very much at home here.

I’ll be right here Thursday morning with another Clarence Mills tale. And if you’d like the next one to arrive without any effort at all, you’re always welcome to follow along.

This story began the way so many of my Clarence Mills adventures do—innocently.

My wife Jane bought herself an SUV, named it Pearl, and decided it would remain in showroom condition every single day… despite living where the roads specialize in dirt, dust, muck, and mud for most of the year.

Normally, washing the car is my job. Pearl is super-sized, and I’m built for it. Let’s just say I’m physically compatible with—and well acquainted with—the ins and outs of an automated eight-bay car wash.

But then, as luck would have it, I sprained my wrist arguing with my clarinet and found myself officially excused from all car-washing duties.

That’s when Jane decided she could handle it herself—fueled, no doubt, by love, confidence, and a lifelong belief that “guy jobs” are wildly exaggerated.

What could possibly go wrong?

In this tale from Clarence Mills, good intentions meet real-world conditions, and a perfectly reasonable plan begins to gather… consequences.

If you’ve ever underestimated a simple task…
If you’ve ever stepped confidently into unfamiliar territory…
If you’ve ever discovered that mud has opinions…

You may feel very much at home here.

I’ll be right here Thursday morning with another Clarence Mills tale. And if you’d like the next one to arrive without any effort at all, you’re always welcome to follow along.

This comes from one of those moments when good intentions, artistic ambition, and basic household safety all collide in the same living room.

My wife Jane decided—very generously—that the perfect fiftieth anniversary gift would be a short violin performance.

Performed by none other than herself… after a brief, half-century break.

What could possibly go wrong?

In this tale from Clarence Mills, a well-meant musical tribute meets an immovable deadline, a gas fireplace, one startled golden retriever, and a singing partner who discovers—rather late in the process—that he does not perform in any recognized musical key.

There is enthusiasm. There is rehearsal. There is… interpretation.

If you’ve ever agreed to help and immediately questioned that decision…
If you’ve ever rediscovered a skill under less-than-ideal conditions…
If you’ve ever wondered whether confidence and accuracy are, in fact, related…

You may feel very much at home here.

I’ll be right here Thursday morning with another Clarence Mills tale. And if you’d like the next one to arrive without any effort at all, you’re always welcome to follow along.

This is proof that not every great idea in Clarence Mills actually went anywhere.

Some of them… quite literally… stopped almost as soon as they started.

What began as a perfectly innocent errand—buying eggs—quickly led to the discovery of a railway system that managed to fail in two directions at once.

In this tale from Clarence Mills, unbridled optimism meets municipal ambition, creative accounting, and a railway line so short—and so determinedly inconvenient—that the townsfolk eventually gave it a nickname that stuck.

If you’ve ever wondered how a community could proudly build a railway with no engine, no destination, and absolutely no chance of success…

You’ve come to the right place.

I’ll be right here Thursday morning with another Clarence Mills tale. And if you’d like the next one to arrive without any effort at all, you’re always welcome to follow along.

This is my proof—absolute proof—that Clarence Mills is not stuck in the past… even if it sometimes looks that way from a distance.

In this tale from Clarence Mills, modern technology arrives with great promise: artificial intelligence, smart homes, helpful assistants… all designed to make life easier.

And for a while, it does.

Until “helpful” begins to take on a slightly broader definition.

What follows is a story about convenience, adaptation, and the quiet moment when a perfectly sensible man begins to suspect he may no longer be the smartest thing in his own house.

Lights respond. Voices answer. Decisions are made—sometimes without consultation.

If you’ve ever welcomed a little help and received rather more than expected…
If you’ve ever wondered who, exactly, is in charge…
If you’ve ever suspected your own home might be developing opinions…

You may feel very much at home here.

I’ll be right here Thursday morning with another Clarence Mills tale. And if you’d like the next one to arrive without any effort at all, you’re always welcome to follow along.

This comes from a period in my life when sleep and I were no longer on speaking terms.

Once insomnia settled in, it had a way of making even the most questionable ideas feel perfectly reasonable—particularly at two in the morning.

In this tale from Clarence Mills, a simple desire for rest turns into a steadily escalating series of attempts to outsmart one’s own brain, involving podcasts, white noise, flexible medical advice, and the firm belief that one more small adjustment might finally do the trick.

It never does.

If you’ve ever found yourself wide awake, convinced the solution was just one tiny change away…
If you’ve ever negotiated with sleep as though it might be open to compromise…
If you’ve ever greeted the morning with a plan that seemed much wiser in the dark…

You may feel very much at home here.

I’ll be right here Thursday morning with another Clarence Mills tale. And if you’d like the next one to arrive without any effort at all, you’re always welcome to follow along.

I suppose everyone’s a bit vain. Even me, if I’m being honest.

In this tale from Clarence Mills, an attempt to stay connected collides with the quiet realities of aging—where old-school workarounds meet modern expectations, and certain visual reminders arrive with more clarity than one might prefer.

What begins as a simple effort to keep in touch—Facebook, Skype, the usual—gradually reveals a more complicated truth: that staying connected sometimes means seeing rather more than you had planned.

This is a story about vanity, adaptation, and the uneasy moment when technology stops being helpful and starts being… informative.

There are good intentions. There is optimism. There is, at times, a strategic avoidance of certain features.

If you’ve ever reconsidered how much you actually want to see on a screen…
If you’ve ever felt that modern technology was revealing just a little too much…
If you’ve ever quietly preferred the audio option…

You may feel very much at home here.

I’ll be right here Thursday morning with another Clarence Mills tale. And if you’d like the next one to arrive without any effort at all, you’re always welcome to follow along.