I once had a Facebook page and then I deleted it. I was happy for four years. Then, my job said it was “highly recommended” that I have an account. So I created a new one. It was terrible. After a dear friend passed away, I deleted it. I was happy for four weeks. I let people make me feel bad for not having an account so I created a my third account. It’s been one of the worse decisions of my life.
The sun was shining on us as we climbed the 268 steps toward the Tian Tan (Altar of Heaven) Big Buddha on Lantau Island, Hong Kong. Paul and I are among the first tourists to climb the stairs in the irenic quiet of morning.
At the end of every year, someone makes a top ten list for just about everything. They try to convince you that their list is best and their choices are the best over everyone else’s picks. This is not that kind of list. Having seen more than 2,000 movies in my lifetime, a top ten list of anything would be impossible. This list is about the movies that have had a profound impact on my life. There are only seven on my list, so you can certainly waste a weekend watching them if you so choose.
Animals have an amazing way of making us feel better. My cats have a way of calming me in a way no human can and the animals at our local zoo have a way of doing even more.
This is the third set of longform readings I have come across in 2018. they cover a wide range of topics, yet all are interesting and well worth the time investment required to read them.
For the past decade, I’ve been posting about the books I’ve read throughout the year and sharing my list with others. This will be my last list I make as there doesn’t seem to be a desire for people to read anymore and they certainly aren’t paying attention to what I’m looking at. I also no longer have the desire to make such a post, particularly when it is long enough to be spread over two posts during the year. I have other things I want to write about and my opinion on particular books is not one of them.
Growing up, watching Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer was a given in my home each December. While the show appears to be an innocent, fun time, it’s really an average story with a terrible message.
“He was a nice man. He didn’t deserve to go that way.” The words had a tinge of sadness attached to them as my mother said them matter-of-factly while we sat waiting for the light to turn green at the intersection of East Main Street and Irwin Avenue.
When the light changed, she gently pushed the gas pedal toward the floor and we continued on our way. It was 1986. Not many people understood HIV/AIDS. There were rumors, confusion, and plenty of hatred. My mother’s words were twinged with a sense of hopelessness. At the time, a diagnosis of HIV/AIDS was a death sentence. This man she knew in high school was already dead. There was nothing she could do.
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