My life ended ten years ago. But it’s okay; I got over it.
That morning, I guest-lectured in a friend’s class at MSU, had some pizza with her husband, played a quick round of golf with him, then at 3:30 pm, June 9th, 2010, my doctor dropped a death sentence on me.
His sentence was, “This is not a death sentence.”Read More
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My life is a struggle to make sense of things — enormous things and things like, “There’s a bathroom on the right.”
I’m referring, of course, to the Credence Clearwater Revival lyrics, which don’t have anything to do with plumbing. The line that’s so often misquoted is really, “There’s a bad moon on the rise.”
HELPFUL NOTE: That’s rock guitarist The Edge from U2 (with the skullcap, not the wig). If you’re still confused about how to say South Bend Mayor Pete Buttigieg’s name after this, it’s pronounced “PEET.”
See that little slot on the left? That was my path. See that chasm on the right?
There should’ve been a sign at the beginning.
Right at the trailhead — right when it was do or die time — the sign should’ve said something like “WARNING: Middle-aged Suburban Guys Should Probably Stay Back In The Gift Shop.”
On the main level at Balcony House, the ranger points out fascinating facts while I cling to the back wall.
You’d think I would’ve gotten the memo.
Hiking a perilous trail (well, perilous to me) and surviving the journey, would alert some people to the fact that maybe sheer cliff walls and tight rock tunnel passageways might be better left to other, more intrepid national park visitors. Especially since I’ve just miraculously reached the end of that trail before lunchtime.
Taylor, Marci and I hang out in a rainy jacuzzi we dug ourselves on Hot Water Beach, New Zealand.
The rain steadily pours down outside our cute, cozy, cottage and life is calm, peaceful and smooth. So it seems insane that we’re about to go outside into the downpour, dig a hole and crawl into it.
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