The Official Website of Michael Corthell

  "Grasshopper's leap, a fleeting sweep, in nature's rhythm, secrets seep. Life's vibrant pulse, in bounds, it keeps." by Michael Corthell In the Summer of 1962, I was 9 years old. We lived in Boise Idaho. On a sunny, warm day in June. I was playing in the sideyard and two police officers came to our front door. They spoke to my mother. After they left I went to see why they were there. My mother was crying. She said the policemen came to tell her that my grandfather had died. We didn't have a phone. I don't remember how long I sat with my Mom but after a while, I went back out to play in the yard thinking about my grandfather and his death. I had just seen him a few months before when we took a trip back east to visit him and my grandmother on their farm in New Hampshire. As I sat on the dusty lawn I noticed a dead dried grasshopper. I picked it up and like I do now marveled at the workmanship that went into the creation of its body. As I was doing that...