ONE OF THE LAST STRAWS for Ann was when I tried to feed bananas to our cat at 3 in the morning. “You’re going to talk to your doctor about this,” she said emphatically. So I did. I told Dr.…
Category: Living
Each moment is different. Here are some of mine.
Why I Love: Sonoma
IT’S THE HISTORY. IT’S THE diversity of food, from restaurants to markets to semipermanent food-trucks. It’s the out-of-state license plates ringing the Plaza on weekends. It’s the eight-acre Sonoma Plaza itself: families having picnics, occasional Tai Chi enthusiasts or Morris…
Out of the Ashes, Endlessly Turning
A YEAR AGO THIS WEEK, Ann, Geronimo and I fled the then-largest wildfire complex in California history. We were voluntary evacuees who came home to find everything relatively intact, so our story had a happy ending. My niece and nephew-in-law…
“Return to the Breath”
SOMETHING ANN AND I SAY to each other when life seems fretful and jagged is “Return to the Breath.” It’s a compact admonition against spiraling out of control with what-ifs and oh-my-gods. Return to the Breath means sit (or stand,…
Getting Back to My Roots
I FIRST NOTICED SOMETHING WAS wrong when I felt the hole in my upper right bicuspid. I didn’t know at first that it was a hole; I was scraping off some potato-chip detritus when my fingernail dipped unexpectedly. I must…
Why I Love: Her (30-year dance remix)
IT’S THE QUICKNESS OF HER wit. (It’s also her verbal skills in general.) It’s the way our eyes met when we first saw each other. It’s her deep appreciation of simple pleasures. It’s her courage. It’s her refusal to quit…
The Name is Attinson. NEAL Attinson.
MY NAME IS NOT “NEIL ATTISON.” Neither is it “Neale” or “Niall,” “Addison,” “Atkinson,” “Atchison,” or “Adlington.” (I’m still trying to figure that one out.) Despite these cognomenly difficulties, I have no desire to change my name to something more…
The story is told of two prisoners condemned to death being held for 6 months in the dungeon of a castle. On the day of execution, the lieutenant leads them down the corridor and up the stairs level by level until they come to the courtyard exit. They are taken to the wall, blindfolded, given their last cigarette and their hands are tied behind their backs. The lieutenant walks back to his firing squad and says, “Ready, aim …” and one prisoner turns to the other prisoner and says, “Now here’s my plan!”
–Rabbi Kalman Packouz
5 Thoughts: A Wrinkle is Time
1. “WHERE DOES THE TIME GO?” I asked. And the answer came: “Away.” 2. There’s really not much one can say about the passing of time, just as there is not much that can be said about falling in love…
Why I Love: Geronimo Cat
IT’S HIS INDEPENDENCE. IT’S watching him sleep. It’s his purring. It’s the feel and smell of his fur. (It’s also the smell of his paws.) It’s the way he closes his eyes when I pet him. It’s his occasional intense,…
Don’t Look Up
OF ALL THE PET PEEVES this modern life offers, one of the most soul-sucking is checking out at the grocery store. I’m specifically talking about the debit-card machine. Time was, you could fill the two-to-three-minute transaction with friendly banter; ask…
Why I Love: Writing
IT’S THE SCARINESS OF THE blank screen. It’s the focused attention. It’s the mental sensation of assembling Tinker-Toy pieces into a coherent structure. It’s the way the hours fly by. It’s the nothing-else-like-it buzz (thank you, Stephen King). It’s the…