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I’m thinking about taxes today. In a perfect world, taxes support the general welfare. In exchange for our tithe, we receive police and fire protection, roadways, airports, mail service, and all the rest. These are the underpinnings of a comfortable life, and in my opinion they are well worth the pittance I pay for them. I consider the …[MORE] Slowly, slowly, some sense of humanity reinstates itself. The symptoms abate, the energy tide turns. Once again, I can summon the strength to walk into the sun. Damn, it’s bright out there. Yesterday my appetite started serving up notice. I wasn’t out of provisions completely, but after a week of cocooning I was bored with the contents …[MORE] During my recent cold, I remembered an old home remedy I’d heard of, but never tried. I had a persistent, croupy cough and folklore has it that Vick’s VapoRub® slathered on the soles of the feet is an effective cough suppressant. I was desperate. I sacrificed an old pair of heavy knit socks and dug the VapoRub out …[MORE] I regularly challenge my Toastmasters members to face down their fears, and I do my best to model that behavior as well. At least that’s what I like to think. Early in life, I struggled a lot with procrastination. This situation didn’t begin to improve until I encountered some insight one day in an article I read. Procrastination, …[MORE] • DOA • A good bed Here it comes…The croupy cough, the stuffed up head, all the joys of oncoming respiratory infection. Time to lock the door, stop the world and crawl into bed. It’s nice to have that luxury. Excuse me while I sleep around the clock, force water and the occasional bite to eat, and build truly impressive piles of wadded tissues. Livin’ the dream. There’s an afterword by writer Howard Rodman to one of his own short stories where he speaks to the idea of the arc of the technological change we experience in a lifetime. It’s a topic I’ve given much thought to over the years, and I was a little surprised to see some of my own …[MORE] Sometimes I have a memory, a sensory etching, of a very particular flavor experience that I can not replicate. No matter how many German chocolate cakes I’ve sampled in my life, not one of them was exactly like my grandmother Velma’s. She used actual cake flour and real German chocolate. We hand-picked the pecans for …[MORE] When I was growing up, my mother woke me each morning the same way. She would step into the hallway outside my room and say my name clearly but quietly, just once, with a slight questioning tone. Some groan or stirring from me was her answer and I was up. I never owned an alarm clock until preparing …[MORE] |
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