Ambition requires imagination, but it is not satisfied with daydreams.
I can never remember summer in the midst of a polar vortex, but I’m comforted and chastised that it comes.
I’ve had people rip up my fliers, call the cops on me, and even fling dog shit at me.
I’m not scared of the gods that inhabit these places per se; I’m just wary of the humans who built them.
If the cost of spreading love is occasionally getting taken advantage of, I’m okay with that.
It was actually kind of a snap decision, I remember, that we would leave our DSLR cameras behind.
Herb has long since retired. Where his barber pole once hung there’s now an upscale Vietnamese joint that does light lunches and dinners.
While the pace of change has slowed down, my identity is still catching up.
For the most part, Cedar Campus remains largely the same as when I was born, a fact many of us—who have grown from infants to adults, from adults to elders; who have gained families; who have lost loved ones—marvel at.
This is probably the only day I will ever respond positively to the question, “All right, are we ready to go for a run?”
