What little boys imagine — Left alone. A small boy, a latchkey kid with big dreams in a small place. Walking dirt roads looking for Avalon. Searching for souls, kindred spirits, or unicorns grazing on crabgrass in a neighbor’s yard. Small boy, big dreams, laughing at birds, laughing at him. Wiping tears away on Tuesdays and Thursdays — parents working late. TV…

Blurred lines — All humans need assistance. No one can go it alone in life, no matter how much we might try. But where do we draw that line? My father put training wheels on my bike so I’d stop crashing into the neighbor’s hedges. I thanked him. My fourth-grade teacher reviewed my…

Let’s find out — People are interested. In themselves, in their neighbors, workmates, and relatives back in New York. They want to know how everyone is doing, how the reunion went if their brother got the ’52 Buick running, and if Grandma is doing okay. In the past, if we had a question and…

When it’s time to let something go — Note: The Photo that prompted this article is copyrighted but linked here, so you’ll know the history behind this. I liked Queen Elizabeth. She was a class act. You see, I lived in England in the late 1970s and got to see her — from a distance of course —…

In another episode of — As the Court Turns Ethics codes are a shaky proposition. Historically, they largely depend on the environment they operate within to have any relevance at all. In other words, do the people involved think they actually need one? In some quarters pointing out a criminal…

What would that sound like? — ChatGPT is our friend. A close friend, maybe even a bestie. Someone you can open up to, ask for advice, request the winning Lotto numbers from, and never have to give anything in return. It’s there to serve. To help. …

Like a lawnmower, it’s not our friend, just a convenience — Artificial by definition means fake or synthetic. Whether referring to intelligence or a sweetener, it’s something manmade and exists to replace what comes naturally and at a far greater cost. Think, all the artificial flavors on the side of a box of cereal or crème-filled cookies. However, you look at…

You know, the ones that come into my inbox every — single — day — I keep getting these letters from the President in my inbox and frankly, I’m not sure what to do with them. First, because I know they’re not really coming from him at all, though he does address me by my first name, which is kind of cool. Second, it feels…

. . . or how we feel at any given moment — Poems are quick glimpses into the soul. The rapid unveiling of a new thought or an old one as it packs and prepares to leave for good. They’re moments when hurt pushes against the real world as it rages in disagreement. It’s not fair. I still love her. …