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  ≈ Dreams Evolve But Their Meaning Doesn't Diminish ≈ ∞ Research Suggests They Help You To Live Longer ∞ “It is not true that people stop pursuing dreams because they grow old; they grow old because they stop pursuing dreams.”  Gabriel García Márquez I love quotes like this: pre-packaged, ready-made intriguing conversations presented in a single sentence. This one comes courtesy of Gabriel García Márquez, the author of nearly two dozen books and whose life’s work earned him the Nobel Prize in Literature. If Mr. Márquez were still around, I’d happily buy him a drink - OK, a couple of drinks - in exchange for some time to discuss the word dreams . And to be clear, we’re talking about life dreams, not the kind where you hit a walk-off home run in the World Series only to wake up and find you didn’t. When you’re young, dreams seem fairly easy to define. As a child, you might dream of becoming an airline pilot, a firefighter, a professional ballplayer or, in my case, a cowbo...

  ≈ Father’s Day – It Has It's Own History ≈ ∞ My List of Thoughts ∞ So, I did some research and have now added a bit of Father’s Day history to my vast fund of useless knowledge. It turns out Father’s Day began with Sonora Smart Dodd of Spokane, Washington, who wanted to honor her father for raising six children on his own after her mother died. Inspired by Mother’s Day, she proposed a day to recognize fathers and the role they play, with the first official Father’s Day taking place in 1910. Over the years, the idea gained support from presidents including Woodrow Wilson and Calvin Coolidge, until Lyndon B. Johnson officially proclaimed the third Sunday in June as Father’s Day in 1966. The decision was made to finally recognize that fathers actually do play a role in the type of people their children turn out to be. Not so coincidentally, the effort also enjoyed the enthusiastic support of companies that sold men’s clothing and other Father’s Day gift-related items. Battery Dr...

  Manhattan, New York Musings on a Trip to "The City" In the old days I took the train into Manhattan and back. Every day. I drove to the station, parked the car, walked to the platform, and got on the train. An hour and twenty minutes in, an hour and twenty minutes back. Rain, snow, heat, cold. Every day. I read the paper and some stuff in my obligatory briefcase, took a nap. No devices to play with, this was back in the dark ages. I never liked it much, but it was part of the price of rural living, so I traded time for woods and gardens. I wasn’t alone, many of my friends did the commute, and between them, the train friends created on the 6:18 every morning and then on the 8:28 every night, the routine went by fast, invisibly, leaving only a deeply entrenched dislike of traveling into Manhattan by any means whatsoever. A few weeks ago, I took the same train into The City, (not the 6:18 am, but it might  literally have been the same train…), but without carrying the planned ...

≈ May is Mental Health Awareness Month ≈ ∞ It’s Important  ∞        This Blog is really late, and I apologize. As I mentioned in my last Blog, we hosted a "Big Chill" at our home, pretty much a week of very old friends (literally and figuratively) all tied in some way to a small private college in late 1960’s Vermont. We didn’t party quite like we used to, but I think we delivered a respectable performance that honored the old days… (Checkout the soundtrack, one of the best) Rain dominated most of the week. It kept us inside together playing various “highly competitive” games, talking for hours, together and individually, walking the woods between storms, essentially a week-long reunion of longtime friendships, aging bodies, memory lapses, and stories that somehow improve with time.   Missing a week of blogging is hardly a crisis, but May is Mental Health Awareness Month, and that matters. The Month exists to emphasize the importance of mental well-be...

≈ ONE PERSON’S WALK IS ANOTHER PERSON’S STUDIO ≈ ∞ A Rock Is Not A Rock ∞ About a five-minute walk from my home sits roughly forty acres of open woodlands, stitched together with a quiet network of asphalt paths. They wind past a meadow that looks suspiciously like it’s waiting for someone with a canvas, a paintbrush, and talent. This small gift of nature exists thanks to a nearby rehab facility that owns the land and allows local residents to use it. The paths were built with intention, so recovery could include fresh air, steady movement, and the tranquility as important to health as the rehab. Without the pavement, it would be a proper woods trail, roots, rocks, potential ankle-twisting steps. The paths make nature way more accessible. I walk there often with my dog, who has far more pressing woodland concerns, primarily squirrel chasing. Along the way, I pass a rotating cast of residents. The stays are short, a week or two, so the faces change often. But the conversations don’t. ...

  ≈ The Dirt on Spring: A Philosophical Guide to Gardening and Life ≈ ∞ Because Every Important Life Lesson Starts With Dirty Fingernails ∞ Spring isn’t officially here, but for gardening, it’s here There is something deeply meaningful about the start of gardening season. Every year, particularly up in the Northern parts of our Country, we begin again. In a world that’s often looking for perfection and penalizes mistakes, (“I can’t believe I didn’t clear the water”), gardening is refreshingly forgiving. It expects catastrophic shots, hands you a shovel and says, “Go ahead. Fix it, no strokes applied”. This is the time of year a garden begins to reveal itself. When the Forsythia are “good morning” yellow, and the periwinkle’s purple flowers join the plants natural bed of green, and the daffodils daffodil and the hyacinths hyacinth in so many shapes and colors, that's all telling us that it’s time to get back to work, sorry, fun… The Audit. So, let’s get down to business. The ...