Based on life found experiences and interviews of 1000s of diverse strangers,

Richard’s short stories entertain as they inspire us to better the way we view and treat one another.

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Of Her Light

Within her a life-decision stretches the walls of her heart. Yet strong she is in her conviction to balance a choice, that to her, grounds the very person she is as well as the spiritual outlook she strives to live by. A palpable essence that all so real in meeting her is one that testifies of her compassion toward others, herself and her acknowledgement of a loving God…

Beyond Their IMDB

I waited a little apprehensive, even nervous, as I anticipated their arrival; two individuals of global visibility who, as entertainers and advocates for the betterment of society, carry a monumental list of life accomplishments; so as the new guy on the block of outreach, yea, the thought of meeting them left me somewhat weak kneed.

The place we were not important, and the date and time irrelevant for the telling of this story. What is of center topic is the spirit I felt as I received a most sure and evident answer– A peace and acceptance, if you will, that, swelling in my chest as they entered the room, clicked all so relevant to the mission of Sidewalk Ghosts. We all have an inner glow that is of profound impact on this world we share, and no matter if we are living in the limelight or not, if we listen to it’s pureness, it has the presence to flow into the hearts and lives of others…

She And The Unknown Voice

So there I was, scraping the tiredness out of my eyes as I she pulled me to the truck st op cooler. Her sugar-laced beauty whispered a sweetly terrible taste as the simple thought of her awakened me. Her magic crushing my reasoning, I submitted to the anticipation of her promise. She was my compulsion, and with 600 miles of Los Angeles to Salt Lake City still ahead, the cobwebs hanging in my head exploded my craving for her…

A Butt Kicker

I’ve been stuck in a battle. A struggle that after 15 years of watching the area behind my house decompose as ignored weeds grow to the height of property destroying trees, my restrain has worn Origami thin. My families sense of security and privacy in question as looking over my now leaning and cracked wall, I watched her and a few others inventorying the property…

A Real Head Turner

Her eyes glowed a radiant blue as I approached her, and with her jaw dropped to breath the midnight air, she exhaled with the thunder of a confident and roaring voice. And as her tone settled to a purr, I began to see past her dark exterior…

At The Center Of It All

I know it’s July, but something inside me has zoomed my heart back to the week before Christmas 2011. A usual night, on a usual drive home, when without my seeking them, they popped into my view. Like a mob with a cause they crossed the street, their numbers hard to ignore, as following them a press pool of photographers worked to find their shot, their flashes further grabbing my attention, as with every pulse of light, distracting streaks of brightness bounced across my windshield...

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How About A Funny Face

At megaphone volume, they laughed unmentionable concepts into the public air. At levels that anyone within 20 feet could hear, a series of most detailed and pornographic descriptions of things they would do to the woman they were staring at. Now, I’m a father, son, brother and husband, so to hear what looked like two professional-looking gentlemen go down such a perverse pathway of though toward womanhood, well, that struck me as grotesque. I pictured them with their families. Wondered if they would view their mothers and sister the same way. And as I did, I was again schooled in reflecting upon an old and most over-used statement, what you see on the outside is not always what’s on the inside

Fathers, Mothers, and Us

I reflect on the good and bad of my father. A good man, yet for all his positives, he was equally flawed.

We all have histories, and as living #humans, experience ranging from great joy to deep pain. No one is exempt, not ourselves, not our parents, nor their parents and on and on. Some had it easy, others, not so much. Why some are dealt unfair cards? I wish I had a reasonable answer. It’s easy to analyze the hows, but to fully explain thy whys is ever daunting. A question I often explore as I work to heal my own garbage as well as witness attacks on others #history, beliefs and perspectives.

The Train To Sankofa

I’ll just call her Aunty, and there we were, two people from drastically different backgrounds, sitting together in her living room. Around us walls filled with a mix of photographs, recognitions, tribal masks and musical instruments that symbolically told of African roots and her 81 years of life as a black American…

Echoes Of Her Footprint

The echoes of snores and other embarrassing body sounds bounced off the granite walls, as all around me hundreds of families huddled into makeshift homesteads. The clock struck 12:03 am, and with the second announcement of what seemed a boarding school inspired lights out, I wiggled to find any comfortable sleeping position. A sadly impossible proposition as, with perfect comedic timing, my air mattress squeaked away every pound of its firmness…


Stir crazy is an understatement, and even though I’ve managed to stay very busy planning the future of my now still-watered business, as well as a being able to spend a bunch of quality time with my family, this third week of home isolation is starting to take a toll on my spirit…

Of What’s To Come

I’ve been chewing on a most audacious topic. One, that at only twelve episodes into my newfound life as a podcaster; has slapped the world in the face. But her I go anyway. A middle-class self-employed guy sharing his feelings on a subject he has no credentials to represent. That being, the full and ultimate impact Covid-19 will have on the now, and even grander, what’s ahead…

A Guide To All That Is Good

Her voice heavy with French accent she told me of a father who was very negative, a dad who worried about everything. And under her smiling exterior, could be seen the reach of a powerful woman who had looked into the face of her past. A person who had tenderly embraced the stressed child she carried within…


She appeared about fifty yards to the right of where I stopped. A red light to change – a left turn away from the beginning of my drive home. Over her shoulder a bike, around her neck a flat inner tube, and in her hand, a dismantled rim and tire. Her face was grimaced, and once having to carry my broken bike for three miles out of mountain bike disaster, I knew how she must have been feeling: cold, tired, frustrated, in pain, and just wanting to be home…

A Gentle Giant

So it is with this subtext I’ll talk of a stranger I met on a hot summer day. A giant of a man who I ran into as he sat under the cooling shade of a tree, silent and withdrawn he was as his sheer stature took a dominant section of a city bench. Intimidating is an understatement to describe him, and it would have been way too easy for me to cast a profile. To make assumptions as to his attitude or intent, but there was something about him that drew me in. I took a seat on what remained of the bench. So it is with this subtext I’ll talk of a stranger I met on a hot summer day. 


The Schwanman

The day started at around 8am, a morning split between in-laws homes as a functional/dysfunctional mix of family dynamics, that dependent on who got the most sleep, rose and fell. Yes, it was the day before Christmas and dinner prep was front and center, and with it came all the usual distractions one might expect at a family gathering…

The Blessing

He looked into my eyes as I asked him a leading question as to who he was… He paused, and as many a good Rabbi does, poised himself in contemplative thought. I could almost her the still air as the room grew silent, then he said, “Maybe it’s not me you want to know about, perhaps you’re on a journey to find yourself.”

The Naked Systems Analyst

He stood at the edge of the sand, a walking path where in his almost nude, most likely waxed, and very public form; he twisted his barbershop quartet mustache as a not so assuming tourist posed by his side… 

Whispering Angels

“It was as if an Angel had reached past the darkness of temporary scarecrows and brought forward ghosts in the closet. A whispering voice that did not originate in my sub-conscious, but rather flowed out of her eyes, and as it did, it ran into my very soul…”

Miss M – The Storm Starter

She burst through the doors! Head tipped back, snarling sighs echoing, pupils rolled back into her head, the whites filling the fullness of her eye sockets. Mocking, she exclaimed for all to hear, “Do you have a dime? Unbelievable!” 

©2019 Richard Radstone. No images or content may be copied or transferred without written permission.