On days like today, too, where it’s 17 o’clock in the afternoon, the sun cashes in its chips and heads south early, as if there’s something even he or she would rather be doing than warding off the darkness. October fades to winter and we here in the North can’t do a darn thing about it.
The last gray glimmer of day fades behind the storm that made our electricity go out on a blind date without us. Like the pioneers, I sit and write by candle light. Unlike our forefathers, my iPhone sits next to me, pinging alerts about my Facebook friend’s power outages and pictures of other’s food or funny selfies. Tesla and Steve Jobs must be rolling their eyes and L-ing out L.
This blackout has also served to remind me why I got high grades throughout Elementary School in every subject besides penmanship (well, I blew at Math too, but for the purposes of this narrative, let’s just confine it to handwriting).
Things I Take For Granted, in no particular order:
I’m not exactly sure when it hit me. Maybe it was while I was fiddling with my camera’s exposure settings that I realized standing in the path of an oncoming lighting storm might not be the most intelligent thing I’ve done in my life. But I had my wife, my daughter and her boyfriend as company, so if our foursome got struck by one of the errant bolts slashing toward us, at least we’d save on funeral expenses. Read More
When one of the Admissions Counselors at my daughter’s college asked her to write a letter to a prospective student — who was also a zombie aficionado — this is what she came up with. Yes, the counselor let her send it. Read More
I was reminiscing with my friend — an old friend — from back when the 70s weren’t polyester nostalgic, but a flesh and blood, corduroy reality. We were kids back then, looking in amazement toward the fall when we would be juniors in high school. That summer night a zillion years ago, I hopped on my Schwinn 10-speed and rode back to my safe, secure home. She walked back into her hell at the house on the corner.