We all leave something behind when we interact with others, and the fragments, like little gifts of this and that, can bring joy or sorrow. During this holiday season when those around us appear to be fraught with anxiety, and fueled by bad news, I think about what type of gift it is that I…
Lately I have become aware of how the word fiddle can string you along. I already wrote about fiddle-dee-dee used as an expression of uselessness. But since then, I have become aware of its use in other strange curious circumstances, again having nothing to do with a fiddle being a string instrument. For instance, what…
As a rule, I enjoy writing. But today it would appear I have nothing much to say. That is, I have a lot to say but it is not of any importance. Thoughts come and go and ideas peek out of the morass of day to day living. But inevitably my best ideas are swallowed…
Exactly what might I say in response to the question, “What’s my line?” Today I am a writer using a line of text to convey an idea, and a digital line to express another point of view. Yesterday as a designer I used ruled lines, my quarter inch scale, and drafting board to produce floor plans…
My memory of childhood has little to do with black and white Kodak moments printed on glossy photographic paper. Those images, framed in white deckle, are family memories. They are copies of the updates shared with grandparents, aunts, uncles and old friends. Mother sent them off enclosed with her cards and letters keeping everyone up…
Wishing you all the joy and happiness of the angels heard on high. May we fall heir to their promise of peace on earth good will toward all. And may their message ring in a new year of love, kindness, good health, and glad tidings.
Ghostly images appear before me as I walk. The sidewalk is imprinted with silhouettes of fallen leaves … like small hands waving goodbye. … each one a reminder of the times we shared, and the blessing of living each day amidst such beauty. With every season Mother Nature, so gracious and forgiving, shares her leaves…
Oy gevalt! Please save me from my fantasy life. Much as I might wish it to be possible, there really is no way I shall ever be mistaken for a sophisticated world traveler sitting at ease in a sidewalk café in Firenze conversing in fluent Italian with passers-by. For one thing, I shall never again…
We idled, imprisoned in traffic on an anonymous stretch of expressway. Expressway is an oxymoron if ever there was one. The vista before us was a dystopian sea of rear ends, SUVs, sedans, eighteen wheelers, box trucks, and the rippling puckered air of exhaust fumes. At three o’clock in the afternoon we had run into…
My understanding is that when one practices the art of meditation while in the woods, stretched out on a bed of moss, one is Forest Bathing. Apparently, the sense of peace is quite profound. I am sure it is an amazing experience. However, as I am having more and more difficulty getting up from a…