My goodness, you go on the injured reserve list for a few weeks (OK, seven), and all kinds of crazy happens in this upended world of ours. It’s been a minute, as the cool kids say. Good thing I don’t have paid subscribers, or you’d all demand refunds. No, we haven’t “gone on holiday” in the south of France, Tuscany or even northern Michigan. I’ve been busy recuperating from a September 19 knee replacement. (Incidentally, that was the last day the U.S. House of Representatives was in session to do actual work. But I digress.) I had my left knee done this time. Another partial replacement, not full. So now…
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Shots and prayers
Since 2001, today has been a day of remembrance and mourning reserved for the anniversary of 9/11 when we lost nearly 3,000 people in the deadliest terrorist attacks in human history. Now 24 years later, it is also a day for reflection on who we have become as a nation. For me, yesterday was just another Wednesday. Or so I thought. Rebecca had gone on a solo Costco run, and I brought up some autumn stuff from the orange and black plastic bins to add fall decor to the house. A smallish gnome wizard and a white-bearded gnome holding a pumpkin. My vintage Halloween Peanuts tree that won’t light. A…
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Bunch of baloney
I’m a little “off” this week. With Labor Day on Monday and trash pickup today instead of yesterday, it messes up my routine. Ah, the tragic laments of an OCD retiree. Though, it’s not bad enough to make me relinquish the official end of summer celebration that honors the achievements of hard-working Americans and their contributions to our nation’s strength and well-being. The first Labor Day parade was held in New York City on September 5, 1882. Organizers fought hard for things we now take for granted: eight-hour workdays, minimum wage, time off, workplace health and safety standards. Also, against the use of child labor. The struggle was real – then and…
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Southern comfort
My absolute favorite TV legal analyst is the inimitable Joyce Vance. When she speaks, people listen – including me. And then I realize just how much there is I don’t know about American history and the law. She’s a civics class, historical reference book and trusted legal mind all rolled up into one fine human being. A constitutional law professor at University of Alabama School of Law, Vance seems to be everywhere, including writing her daily chart-topping Substack newsletter, “Civil Discourse.” She ends every one of her posts with this tagline: “We’re in this together.” Vance also is part of the weekly “Sisters in Law” podcast. And she still has time to tend…
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The art of death cleaning
At this moment, we have two dear friends not only mourning the loss of a parent, but also tasked with going through their loved ones’ personal belongings before putting their homes up for sale. For most offspring of a certain generation, this unenviable task has become almost inevitable, filled with emotional and sometimes financial stress. Might be a good idea to start this process before we die, don’t you think? Go through your stuff now so your children won’t have to rent a Dumpster after you kick the bucket. Last week, our kind neighbor across the street, a recent widow, decided to do just that. She has a 20-yard lime green Dumpster sitting on…
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Playable history
Rebecca has this outrageous theory about my three favorite things in life. For nearly 16 years when we were service humans to our beloved dog Madison, she used to say the top-ranked items in my world were “Madison, Mustang and me” (meaning her), as in she played third fiddle to a dog and a car. Not just any dog or car, mind you. Still, she believed she was “last but not least” in the hierarchy. After we lost dear Maddie in April 2024, Rebecca’s ranking moved up a notch – maybe two. But I’m afraid her recent rise to the top may have been short lived, since I’ve added a…
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Beautiful Dreamer
Frankly, I never knew I loved the smell of horse manure in the morning. With apologies to fans of “Apocalypse Now,” let me explain. The 1979 Vietnam War film’s most famous line, “I love the smell of napalm in the morning,” was delivered by Robert Duvall’s character aptly named Lt. Col. Kilgore. He described how the lingering odor of napalm – a jellied fuel that could be ignited as a deadly weapon – reminded him, of all things, victory. Turns out, an air strike by his unit destroyed a Vietcong-controlled coastal village using the horrific firebomb. Chilling stuff indeed. Ironically, and unlike Kilgore’s fog of war, a steaming pile of…
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Old money
I have been trying not to write about frivolous subjects. In my scattershot approach to composing a blog post worthy of your time, I’ve considered a boatload of throwaway topics: lavish summer weddings in places you’re not welcome, potty-mouthed presidents, and the God’s-honest truth that I thoroughly enjoyed watching Brad Pitt in “F1: The Movie” when my past regard for his acting was a notch above the wooden Tom Cruise. Speaking of inanimate objects, just how do you pronounce “gif,” those goofy images on social media that serve as emotional shorthand in texts. Not static, smiley-faced emojis. Think of rolling eyeballs or cats waving goodbye. Is it “gif” as in…
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American ‘agita’
Here we go, dear subscribers. Time for another wildly disjointed post from your favorite slogger. I can’t help it, but it’s my blog, and I’ll float in a babbling brook of shallow stream of consciousness if I want to. Or, as one writer friend commented, “It reminds me of my journal entries lately.” It’s not that I haven’t tried to come up with something pointed and straightforward. Honestly, I have, but to no avail. There’s just too much chaos to consume. Every. Single. Day. I find it all hard to digest, and instead come down with yet another case of agita, as my Italian grandmother used to say. Sound it out:…
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Blahs, bees and Bob
I woke up today with an old children’s song stuck in my head. We had a few friends over Sunday – the first lovely weekend afternoon in a very long time – so recalling a traditional, repetitive folk/drinking song in my dreams may have been the result of too much folk and drink. You’ve heard it: “If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands. If you’re happy and you know it, then your face will surely show it … (blah, blah, blah) … clap your hands.” Wikipedia says the song first appeared in a 1938 Soviet musical comedy called “Volga-Volga,” which centers around a group of amateur performers sailing on a…
