You’ve hummed the lyrics countless times since you were a kid; probably more times than Lady Gaga has hairs on her head. And even If you haven’t memorized the words, you certainly know the story: Santa very publicly anoints Rudolph as leader by declaring “….Rudolph with your nose so bright, won’t you guide my sleigh tonight?” [*] What is left
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Good morning. Texas and our country need you. It is important that all registered voters go today and make your vote count. Thanks.
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Would you like to swing on a star Carry moonbeams home in a jar And be better off than you are Or would you rather be a pig [*] I’ve been sitting outside in my cedar chair – adult beverage in hand – watching the sliver of a crescent moon sink below the horizon. As it does suddenly dark
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The word class isn’t used much anymore. It did mean knowing and appreciating the finer things in life; respectful interaction with all peoples; behaving appropriately to the occasion. And it wasn’t connected to income. My ethnic European grandparents had it despite so-called humble beginnings. The Kardashians, Housewives of Youpickacity, the antics of Alex Baldwin and Justin Bieber are prime examples
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My mother asked that question rhetorically many times of our family dogs as we were growing up. But what do animals ponder? Or can they? That question stuck with me and seems more intriguing as the years pass now surrounded by differing animals in a farm setting. The bird you can barely see at the top of the tree is a Red-shouldered
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I used to think that the only real sunsets were those you’d see from a shoreline, or perched on a vacation home deck overlooking the wavy expanse. There was something about water – and the sun being gobbled up by it – that made them cool. This probably started by watching all those old movies where the guy gets the
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My gasoline can is old. After many years of filling and refilling all sorts of stuff have collected at the bottom: crunchy wings of bees; carcasses of adventurous spiders; plain old dirt; dried leaves, etc. The time arrived to clean it. How to do that with about one gallon of vintage fuel remaining was the issue. Options aside, I made
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Gingerly turning over newly-found old papers, photographs and assorted documents, surprise: Mom had artistic talent. The loosely bound faded green “Clippings” book that surfaced this past weekend gave that away. Mom saved the collection during WW II, when our mother was single and in her late teens to early twenties. But at the back of the volume, past the war
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Every working day for almost forty years I accounted for every hour of work. I had to repeat that sentence to myself to comprehend it. Time cards, whether paper or electronic, had to be filled out, and formally submitted. No card, no pay. Every single hour, sometimes down to the half-hour, had to be recorded. A short description of the
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