1886 is a story book. It's about a time that has receded past remembering, having left behind only the remnants of family tales passed over generations. In part, it's about things I learned from my grandmother when I was just a boy; for the rest, my own imagination populated the situations and characters which are described. It's true that my grandmother was born in a covered wagon somewhere on a trail between Texas and Oklahoma. It's true that the town her family settled in was little more than a wide spot in the trail. It's true that the life was harder, the people more generous and the dreams simpler and somehow more noble. Perhaps that America is gone forever, like covered wagons and sod houses and my granny's no-recipe cooking. I'd like to think it's still there, awaiting a return to the excitement of starting something completely new again; and perhaps awaiting people strong enough to dream the bold dreams once more.