I am not what anyone would call a spontaneous individual. The pattern of my life for the most part has bordered on the somnolent. So it came as a shock to me-myself-and-I, as well as those who knew me back then, that I should leave behind a successful career in Library-Land to pursue a degree…
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…
It rained most of Monday and continued drizzling Tuesday morning. I had decided to forgo my walk as it looked gloomy and cold outside. However, by noon it had warmed up and the rain had stopped, leaving a persistent foggy mist. It was a damp and dreary world out there, but I put on my…
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…
As we speed toward autumn, the nights are coming earlier, and the mornings arrive later. The calendar is winding down toward September, and today the air feels as it did when I dressed in plaid and scuffled my way through the leaves on my way to school. There is still a hint of humidity, and…
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…
It is early on a Sunday morning of what promises to be another hot summer day. The windows are open and the soft sounds of birds going about their birdy business create a haze of contentment. Normally I would be reading the paper and getting a grip on the outside world, but the paper guy…
Well, I managed to splatter myself face first on a perfectly benign sidewalk. And contrary to popular belief, my life did not flash before my eyes. It was nevertheless, quite a spectacular fall. Due to extenuating circumstances, it is beyond my capacity to relate the entire sequence of events leading up to my pratfall in…