Was it fate or just the path of least resistance? It’s been 20 years and I still don’t know.
In the autumn of 2004 circumstances too long and boring to explain gave me the opportunity to live pretty much anywhere I wanted. There was no particular reason, no special interest, leading me to one place over another.
There was a time, longer ago than most of us who remember it would like to admit, when most people in the country could identify the three national television news anchors. Well, except for ABC; at the time it seemed as if ABC could not identify its own anchor.
Halloween approaches. Children who persuaded their parents to buy them costumes right when they appeared in stores have had time to outgrow them. If candy was purchased at that time it has been consumed or gone bad. Evenings are beginning to get a crispness suggesting summer might be going if it’s not quite gone.
Two years ago, a mysterious package arrived on my porch. It contained a computer keyboard from a company I had never heard of and with no sign of where it came from. Keyboards do not usually show up unannounced.
There is good cause for me to eye outdoor power tools with suspicion and fear. As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, my first battle with a lawnmower ended in my defeat. (No, that’s not a pun — my left foot was sewn back together and remains an important part of me to this day.)
WCBS Radio in New York, the originator of all-news broadcasting, will cease to exist before the month is out. Its famous call letters will disappear, replaced by something else. Rather than 24-hour live news, it will become round-the-clock sports discussion of interest primarily to gamblers. Also, there will be many ads for places where gamblers can lose their money. And other vices as well.
The speed at which our language is being changed is as dizzying as the particular changes are mind-numbing. In theory, we’re moving toward a kinder, more “inclusive” language, but if this is how we’re going to get there, maybe communicating by grunts would be more efficient.
The campaign to re-elect Bugout Joe Biden may, upon retrospection, conclude that it was a false economy to recruit as Biden’s makeup technician for last week’s debate a student from a mortuary college.
My driver license was up for renewal soon, so a couple of weeks ago I thought it would be a good idea to have my eyes examined. In retrospection maybe I should have had my head examined first.
As the multitude of cicadas sang briefly across the nation this past month, a storm blew one of them onto my path. Strange as it may sound, as I witnessed that little bug struggle through the aftermath, I was given a masterclass on dealing with my own storms.