Filled up three big garbage cans with garbage too. Getting rid of my possessions is awesome. Eleven bags’ worth of stuff is gone, and I get a tax write-off to boot. We vote with our pocketbooks. Who and what are you supporting? Note that my truck and the husky in the picture are not donations.
Month: April 2018
People can be amazing; what are you building?
Spring is upon us in Minnesota, and we see five months’ worth of get-outside-and-make-it-happen bubble up on the first warm weekend of the year. For me this means more walks (although less intense than my winter walks), bike rides, dinner outside, sitting on the porch, sprints for weight loss and muscle growth, cabin time, grilling, and church softball league. Last night on a bike ride with my–now very pregnant and ever-more beautiful–wife, I saw this chalk drawing on the sidewalk about a mile from our house. I was so impressed that I walked back this morning to get a picture. It’s not so much that the chalk drawing impressed me–although it did. Nor was this the only chalk drawing we saw–it wasn’t. No, what really impressed me is the simple fact that someone spent hours creating this knowing it would not last. Not only that, but this person made this wonderful art that by now (probably) thousands of folks have encountered and enjoyed while gaining no notoriety from it! There is no monetary benefit. No gained fame. No acclaim. Just art. Are you the type to build the sand castle knowing it won’t survive the inevitable night’s tide? Think about that for a moment. Reflect on…Continue reading People can be amazing; what are you building?
“Ain’t it funny how a melody can bring back a memory”
One of the most pleasant sounds in the world to me is the sound of loose change being dropped into a change jar. Why? you ask. Am I that much of a modern-day, money-hungry Scrooge that I even like the sound of loose change, mere pennies and nickels, clinking together? No, no, although I do like money, this noise means much more to me than money. You see, growing up that noise meant the fun was about to start. How’s that? you wonder. When I heard that noise, it meant my dad had just arrived home from work. He’d hug and kiss us all, walk upstairs and–while changing into his fun clothes–he’d drop his day’s worth of loose change into his change jar. That sounds meant the fun was about to begin. He’d walk downstairs, and we’d hang out for a bit before dinner. After dinner, we’d go outside and have a catch or play hoops until bedtime. In the winter it meant basement sports or wrestling. These times–from 6:30 to 9 p.m.–were some of the best times of my life. Even though I would have played outside all day in the summer, playing and hanging with my dad was…Continue reading “Ain’t it funny how a melody can bring back a memory”
A worthwhile read on America’s opium crisis
***I drafted this post and let it sit for a few weeks. In the interim, a family friend traveled off to funerals for two brothers, both dead of overdoses within two weeks of each other. The boys’ parents are now childless.*** I am very interested in the opium crisis in America. Particularly, I am interested in the crisis’s effects on the American Way–our institutions and communities–felt most acutely in our nation’s small towns and suburban areas. My wife and I have both been touched by the crisis in the past few years as we’ve each had a twenty-something family friend overdose on heroin. Both of these young men had good parents, upper class upbringings. and intelligence. These kids had all the chances and love in the world going their way and still could not overcome their addictions. This has kept me thinking that opiate addiction must be intensely powerful. For this reason, my wife refuses painkillers, and I’ve adopted that position as my own. In my thoughts about the opium crisis, I wonder if it could be that–instead of addiction causing many of society’s problem–opiate addiction is the effect of more widespread problems? I’ve been thinking it’s probably no surprise that…Continue reading A worthwhile read on America’s opium crisis
One hundred steps more
About three times per week, I walk my dog just under four miles. I walk down the same street each time. Fifteen long city blocks, turn right, walk one block turn right, walk 15 blocks, turn right, walk one block, and I am home again. Once in a while I make small deviations, but otherwise this is the plan. Last week, on a lark, we arrived to the normal turnaround, and I thought, Why not keep going? Almost immediately, both the dog and I were “off.” My boots kept coming untied. I couldn’t picture our exact location on the “map” in my head. I took like three wrong turns. The dog didn’t know where to turn. Unlike our normal route, I couldn’t picture each house as we went past. The dog actually grew anxious at first, looking back to our normal turn. Pathetic, I thought, we go off route and things fall apart. I smiled to myself. Why are we such creatures of habit? Is it good to be so predictable? Could it be bad? Before I settled on any answer, the dog calmed down and forgot the stress. I figured out where we were on the “map,” and all was…Continue reading One hundred steps more