The future grows from the stories we tell.
I can’t stand losing. Especially when I think I’m in the right. It’s enough to make me gnash my teeth, blow smoke out of my nose, and roar with fiery rage.
Eight years ago, though, I learned an ancient story that led me to reconsider my relationship with antagonists.
Working with Thomas Edison wasn’t as magical as my first cousin, 3 times removed, hoped. But, I learned a lot about the cost of career success from the reflections of Walter E Holland and his wife, Alice.
My dad taught my Sunday School class for a brief time when I was fifteen. […]
The last thing I wanted to do was impose on her heavenly hereafter. She deserved some time to do what she wanted. I promised I’d let her be dead in peace. But eighteen months into her eternal rest, I needed my mother real bad.
My son made aggressive air quotes around the words as he told me about the assignment. His voice trembled with outrage, “There were pictures of dragons and fairies and unicorns and the whole thing was about how those things weren’t really real!”
He thought for a minute, “Well… I think it’s to… swim… and to laugh… and to love. Yeah, I think that’s why we live. How about you, mom?”
You couldn’t pay me to prepare or eat the vast majority of these recipes. How can a person have SIX salads, all gelatin-based, and nary a one featuring lettuce?
This method is pure gold. If I follow the steps, in order, things get done. […]
That funhouse mirror convinced you it was true.
