This morning I was sitting on a bench in park. You know, as one does. There was fog rising off the lake. Dew was glistening in the early morning sun. People were taking walks, having jogs, and I was there trying to soak it all up. The bench was under a tree. No one was around me. Right in the middle of my frame of view, a leaf fell to the ground. It landed about five feet in front of me. It sat there, on top of a few blades of grass. The bottom curved ever so slightly. I am

I look for meaning in things. When I would play basketball as a kid, I had to make the last shot before I put the ball away. When the Cubs were in the World Series in 2016, I stood with my hands on my knees because they seemed to play better when that was happening. I see symbols in nature. I make connections between events. This way of life has its advantages. It certainly makes writing more fun. It also causes me to beat myself up when I do something that upsets the balance

Sometimes I can be a bit cynical. Slogans and mantras are fine for other people, but I’ll just stick with being a Gen Xer and feel above everything. The other day, however, I found myself inspired. I was inspired by an unlikely source. I was inspired by my arch-nemesis. I was inspired by Kobe Bryant. I am two weeks older than Kobe Bryant. Being so close in age, I’ve always compared myself to him. The result have been…disappointing. Sure I might have the Best Touring Show of t

“It’s happening.” That was the text I woke up to yesterday morning. It was from my sister, Valerie, and it was sent at four am. That’s a little early for things to be happening, I thought to myself in my early morning stupor. I was about to ask her what she was talking about when I remembered that my sister Valerie was over eight and a half months pregnant. Oh. That. That is what was happening. Then the group texts started, one of the hallmarks of modern births. One with my