The Glass is Half-Full

  I love it when I'm able to surprise myself. It's kind of hard to do if you think about it - surprising yourself; it's not like you can jump out and say surprise or think something you didn't know you were thinking. You know what I mean? Here's how the feat transpired.  I was parked in Saugatuck at the corner of Butler and Hoffman, near the book store. I needed to get to choir rehearsal and then come back to the store, so my original thought was that I would drive the block and a half and then come back. But it was a busy Saturday and I knew that parking was at a premium, so I  debated with myself about whether I would drive or leave the car and maneuver to rehearsal. You might be thinking, what's the big deal it's only a block. Even in a wheelchair, you should be able to go a block. And I can. But this is a block with a fairly steep hill and a fairly rutted sidewalk. But if I drive t here may not be any parking spaces nearby and I'll end up having to p...

I'm not prone to host pity parties. In fact, the last one I had was over five years ago when I transitioned to the wheelchair. It was a good one, if memory serves, and over forty pounds joined me where they lingered, resulting in a long miserable hang-over. But, it being a pandemic and all, I felt like hosting another pity party. I mean it's a fricking, once in a lifetime opportunity, right? Here I am, gimpy and immune compromised and shut-in for three weeks. I have my "co-workers" John, Matthew and Delaney here with me, Facetime and Zoom for human contact. But I miss my friends, family, WW coworkers and members, people at church, my pharmacist, Bill at the gas station, the owners and staff at a couple restaurants, the florist, the smart-ass cashier at Aldi, the wonderful people at the vet's office, all the healthcare workers I'd be seeing at the oncologist's/neurologist's/optometrist's/dentist's/family doc's offices and all the ...

Remember when 9/11 was just a date or a number you called in an emergency? Our lives changed dramatically post 9/11. For weeks after that September day, we seemed to walk around in a fog, like the haze that loomed over the now-fallen twin towers. I remember trying to minimize my obsession with the news, trying to keep the three little Piggins away from the enormity of the disaster. Remember when corona was simply a beer best served with a lime wedge? It now and forever will be instead associated with this virus that has upended our world in ways we could never have imagined. This tiny little, microscopic virus has brought the mighty to their knees. It has us quarantined and distancing socially (though I believe we've been doing this emotionally for years) and working from home. As anxiety peaks, our economy tanks. As toilet paper and hand sanitizer flies off the shelves, we are looking for new ways to stock our pantries. A good friend observed, "I never thought I'd...