family
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It should have been a typical Monday night in mid-January: I was seated at my desktop, running through edits, and sipping coffee. An hour passed when I thought, It’s time to hit the gym. I hesitated. I was not alone in the house, yet it was quiet… too quiet. Quietude, although mostly welcomed, has its…
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The odds makers gave me very little chance. In fact, they placed my chances of emerging victorious at a big, fat zero. But those odds makers didn’t know my people—their heart, their fortitude. And thank goodness for the wisdom of Mr. Paine. Trust me when I tell you, there went a fellow who knew a…
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Dear Miserly Old Prick, In the event that you’ve lost track of time (doubtless you have; it’s a symptom of living too long), it’s 2062, and you’re 100 years old. Congratulations. But are congratulations in order? Should longevity count as an accomplishment? Let us examine the situation, shall we? Presently, you’re enjoying life with the…
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Because “American” is not an ethnicity, and “America” is essentially a patchwork quilt, she’s a nation devoid of a definable culture or a cultural aspect not mutually exclusive to market inventions. But that doesn’t preclude her from having an ethos, a vibe, or an atmosphere. For example, football, autumn, and Thanksgiving, on their own merits,…
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If you haven’t already seen the video, you’ve at least heard about AI’s latest shtick: Keeping grandmothers alive. Give it a watch. It will only take a minute. My thoughts are below. We’ve finally made it! A generation ago, thanks to medical science, what used to require major surgery is solved with an in-and-out procedure.…
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It was upon a summer’s breeze that the echoes from a forest beckoned a young lass. Often, from the confines of her mother’s garden or with her elbows resting on her bedroom windowsill, she had wondered about the wood just yonder did our golden-haired youth but never had she ventured into its denseness. Today,…
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This past year, I have developed what I call, my old man sleep pattern. Doubtless, I have accumulated my share of birthdays, but not enough for the “dreaded” old man pattern. Nevertheless, wherever I happen to be come 10:00p.m., be it in front of the television watching a ballgame, curled up on the sofa reading…
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My mother made her departure in 1992. I was just thirty. Funny thing about doomed cancer sufferers: we tend to mourn them while they are still living, agonizing through the disease’s progressions. I did not shed a single tear at her funeral. The year was 2008; I was rummaging through a basement closet, a place…
Michael's Corner 