One of my favorite traditions on Thanksgiving is going around the table and listening to everyone give thanks for what they are grateful for this year.
I loved this part of my family’s tradition. Unfortunately, the years have gone by since then. People moved away and more accurately, people have passed away. The times have changed and this year has changed the face of society. However, it is right that we give thanks. It is right that we look for the details behind our gratitude. So, please, if you will allow me the moment of sappiness, then I will begin.
A Note About Divorce
Now, be mindful, I am not speaking for everyone. I am not saying I am right or wrong. This is a note from experience. And mine might be different from yours but either way, here it goes . . .
Continue readingTime For A Ride
It seems the only way to break the mood is to put on the right music. I think a good road trip is the way to go.
Hop in, turn the key, put the car in drive and then head out on an empty road with nothing but the landscapes on either side. There are times when the static is too much. I think times like this is when we need to unplug the most.
The Word For Today Is: Pacifier
As a kid, the most common answer to the question “Why?” was a simple “I don’t know.”
I would always say the same thing.
Why’d you do it?
“I don’t know.”
I would look away with a lost expression on my face. I remember the time I threw a rock that unintentionally hit a car window. I was about seven or maybe eight at the time. I ran away but someone told on me. And sure as hell, I was asked “Why’d you do that?” to which I replied, “I don’t know.”
The Word of the Day is: Imagineer
Jesus, I say. Where did the time go?
There was a little sleepaway camp somewhere up in the mountains of a little upstate town with a lake and docks and a little beach area with screaming kids, running around and lo and behold, I was one of them.
There are pictures of this somewhere. There are pictures of me, little and small, innocent and pure.
From The Junkie Stories: Social Memories
Social media has ways of reminding us about the anniversaries from our past. The social media gods remind us of what happened on this day, last year and the years before. These are the old posts that make you say, “Oh yeah,” and reminds us of where we were and who we were with.
Continue readingWith All Things Being Equal
There is one thing that is and will always be. And that’s life. There is and will always be life around us. There will always be something. There will be reasons why we weep and reasons to rejoice.
There will be incidents and accidents, tragedies and moments so amazing that they only come once in a lifetime. There are however, the daily stressors. There are the hidden tasks which no one else sees or knows about.
Continue readingLetters From a Son: The Old Man
I see him now, older of course, and gray-haired but not weak. No, I see him now as knowingly different and aged by experience but not robbed by this in any way. No, not at all.
I imagine him the way he might have looked if he were around today. I imagine the things he might have said if we were together or fishing from the side of an Upstate pond.
Continue readingA Note About The Speaker
Someone asked why I cry when I do some of my presentations. I laughed because crying is not what people expect. I’m not even sure that crying is something that I expect. Then again, maybe emotion is the best way to create a point.
Continue readingHow Does Your Garden Grow
Something we never pay attention to is it costs absolutely nothing to have a dream. There are no dues or hidden fees. There is no need to cancel anything if the dream changes.
In fact, the only price is the effort to make our dreams come true. And we all dream. We all have a scenario. We have hopes and visions.
We all have this place in our mind that imagines. There is a place in our heart and in our soul. This is the birthplace where a succession of ideas take on a sculpted creation. This results in the emotional creation of what this dream would be. The satisfaction is the fruits of our labor.
The Written Addiction 