7:30 in the morning about a week before leaving Vermont a month ago after 28 years. What I presumed was a snapping turtle headed across the lawn toward the dirt road in front of my house. A safe crossing could use my help I surmised. I’d assisted smaller turtles in the past by simply
“You still have things to accomplish related to why you were born, and my death will help you do them.” From the day my beloved took her life two years ago today, this message from her has illuminated every choice I make.
The National Memorial for Peace and Justice in Montgomery is perhaps the strongest public recognition of America’s holocaust: the conscious, deliberate dehumanization of human beings, particularly those of African ancestry. In excess of 12 million were made slaves over more than 300 years to fuel our nation’s economic prosperity. And while slavery in
This may be an essay that takes a long time to complete. It’s not just about the delightfully oddball things that occurred yesterday, the day Lissa and I officially set off from Vermont to Santa Fe, it’s also about the beautiful goodbyes that punctuate the wondrous maturing that I have been blessed to experience since
Three years ago this past Friday, May 28, my beloved went to the local emergency room and said, “You must do something with me; I am a danger to myself.” Fourteen months later she ended her life. This past Friday, a date selected prior to appreciating its 2018 antecedent, I drove my boys,
My guru says don’t be shy about getting in God’s face. You’re His child, after all. Hat-in-hand is no way to approach your parent. Demand what serves your noblest aspirations. So I say: G, I’ve boiled it down. I need two things to feel the path I’m traveling is blessed.
I can’t imagine passing up the fun of writing my own obituary. Unlike more traditional obits, there will be no narrative of worldly achievements, connections, good fortune, heartbreak and general shenanigans. Instead, an exploration of the key question one might pose in response to those things. So what? Our control over what happens is tiny
When my beloved and I first became sweethearts nearly a half-century ago, our only piece of art was a poster of hers that read: A friend is someone who leaves you with all your freedom intact, but who, by what he thinks of you, obliges you to be fully what you are. ~ J. L’Heureux.