So often we avoid the word “dead” with phrases like, “she passed away,” or, “we lost her.” Obviously […]
Life
Before the prosecutors rested their case in the murder trial of former Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin, they […]
Why are you looking for the living among the social media posts, elected leaders, political parties, Hollywood heroes, […]
Last Sunday was National Sanctity of Life Sunday. So, let’s talk about how we talk about life. More […]
“The one who conquers will be clothed thus in white garments, and I will never blot his name […]
It looked like an old piece of paper, stuck to the bottom of the cardboard box in the […]
The stoic philosophers would famously use the phrase memento mori which translated into English says, “Remember that you […]
Same song on the radio when he left the driveway this morning. There it was again. A bold […]
I will never be a good salesman. I remember when I was young, maybe toward the end of middle school or the beginning of high school, I used to go out a few times to sell newspaper subscriptions for the paper I delivered. There is very little that seems more awkward to me than trying to sell something, being declined, and continuing to meet objections with answers. Needless to say, I suspect that the only subscriptions I sold were to those who were already inclined to buy them.
It was only the second drink. Sloshing spinning slivers of silvery ice. Two pieces swimming just beneath the surface. Swirling around in synchrony glassed in an endless circle. A tiny shake from his fingers almighty kept them timelessly turning around each other. They crash into each other from time to time, bludgeon themselves against the invisible crystal wall to freedom, and then float lonely, smaller, melted a bit more than before. Drinking in their drift to nowhere, he watched them waste away. Water in the whiskey.