I’m a bubble idiot.

Headphones glued to ear

I stumble through odd spaces

Your voice I do not hear.

Could it really be him?

He steps slowly from the dugout,

Tips his cap.

The population of the planet Primus lived in comfort and peace. There was no war, no disease, and they enjoyed a truly democratic government in which candidates ran on their beliefs and values, not some party dogma.

The wind blew countless tree seeds into the meadow.
Two of them landed far apart.
Two trees sprung from the ground.

It was always something
Every day.
Some bauble,
A magazine,
A flower,
Perhaps a full bouquet.
Her joy was his.

It starts in the spring.
Hopes high.
Some familiar faces,
Some new and fresh.
162 games through which anything is possible;
Perhaps even a ride into October.

Thanks to Sam and her “reverse dare,” I was about to step into “Cemetery Alley” at night. We must be crazy, this place creeps me out in broad daylight; no one ever goes here at night, I thought to myself. Yet there we were, about to follow “Igor” into the tangle of brambles that marked the entrance to Cemetery Alley and whatever secret business brought Igor there night after night.

It seems that in this era of social media, the sound bite, and hosts of political sophistry from left and right, we need to teach our children the importance of critical thinking and healthy skepticism. Note that I do note advocate cynicism, but as I read the endless parade of trash posted on social media, a few things come to mind. So, I presumptuously posit a few suggestions on how to approach and question what other would have us adopt as “truth.”

My family recently joined a gym. I tend to primarily use the free weights. “Back in the day,” you could often pair up with a gym buddy and spot one another on the bench etc. If not, it was no big deal to simply ask someone for a “quick spot.” However, glancing around the gym, it seems everyone has a set of earplugs in and is “tuned out.” Thus, in order to so much as ask someone for that quick spot, I have to get their attention, have them pull a plug, and, then actually ask them a question – face-to-face, in-person. I am reluctant to do this. I feel as if I am crossing some indistinct line.

Please, don’t define me by my politics

It seems to me that politics has taken an increasingly dark and intolerant turn. Yes, I know there has always been negative campaigning and hostility in politics, but it seems that the overall nastiness has become increasingly “grass roots.” It seems more and more acceptable to disagree with someone’s political perspective and then go the extra mile of attacking them personally and discounting and debasing those with whom we disagree. Our disagreement on political issues says very little about our humanity other than at the most extreme levels, when these views find expression in aberrant behavior, cruelty, and intolerance.

There was a time
When phones stuck to the wall
If you weren’t at home,
You just missed the call.

I envy people that have been blessed with greater gifts than me. What other response could I have? But that is the extent of my thought on the subject. Wow, wouldn’t it be nice to have been as smart, athletic, talented as another?

Take this dialogue:
Potential employer: I’m sorry, you’re just not right for the position.
Job candidate: But I need this job.

As we enjoy the holiday season, there will be much giving and
receiving. I take the time to finally write a few words about a recent trip to Paris and an unusual opportunity to “give.”

Recently, on a Saturday, I was passing through my old neighborhood in Whitestone.

Before hopping on the bridge to head home, I decided to take a walk through what we used to call “Doopie’s Park.” It has another name now.

Much time has passed since the year of the Great Gathering. The greatest minds of the age, worldwide, attended . Every discipline was represented: scientists, philosophy, mathematics, religion, government, history. etc. No realm of thought was omitted; no open mind was unwelcomed.

It was a good day in school today.
No one talked to me.
No one hit me.
No one hurt me.
It was a good day.

I will agree in a heartbeat that quality family time is not best spent around the television. Yet, some wonderful memories of childhood did involve a gathering of the whole family around the tube for some show or movie that would be but a memory if not seen the one time it was on. This was so particularly around the holidays, when classic animated specials aired for the one and only time.

Here's to all of our veterans and men in service. Let's perhaps also remember a country that, with SOME of our allies, won a war, helped rebuild the vanquished and then went home without leaving our flag behind.

"Back in the day," the fifth verse of the Twelve Days of Christmas was a resounding "Five Golden RIngs!" Golden, having two syllables fit the rhythm of the song.