For those of you who know me, it will likely come as no surprise to learn that I’m fascinated with the UFO phenomenon. Gifted with a telescope at the age of 10 and with encouragement from my grandfather, I turned my attention skyward and began scanning the heavens for signs of intelligent life on other planets.
In My Humble Opinion
The words above can be attributed to any number of things in my world. Photos I’ve taken, concerts I’ve attended, plays that I’ve seen… even columns that I have written, and with nearly 500 of those under my belt for The River Reporter alone, well—they can’t all be winners.
With Mother’s Day fast approaching, it’s only natural that the memories flood my reverie even more than usual and although Mom is no longer here, not a day goes by…
Playwright George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950) once famously declared that “youth is wasted on the young,” and I’ve been known to quote his pithy comment on occasion, but nowadays… I wonder.
Sometimes, both the metaphorical and literal definitions collide, and such was the case this past week as the skies opened and literally soaked the Upper Delaware River region, while simultaneously the downpour of events cascading across the counties commenced, as alluded to last week.
It’s been a while since I participated in an “official” spring break and took the requisite trip to Florida to hang out with friends, get rowdy and party till the sun came up. The very thought of doing that now exhausts me and is a reminder that I might be approaching the autumn of my years, which is a bit unnerving too.
For those of you who work with someone of the Jewish faith, it might appear as though there is a holiday every other month, and you wouldn’t be far off the mark.
While I write about my family fairly often, there are a few who would not mind me leaving them out of the equation publicly and I have deferred, with respect to their privacy.
“Your home will always be the place for which you feel the deepest affection, no matter where you are.” So says the Internet, when asked about the age-old proverb—and I suppose it’s true. While I have lived in (and loved) a variety of locales, I have a deep affection for my childhood home, which I had the opportunity to see last week.
Ever since Dharma the Wonder Dog came into my life, I’ve toyed with the notion of writing a book about her, using the title employed above. Although that book has yet to be written, it never occurred to me that it would begin with a chapter filled with drama like the last two weeks have provided.