Dear National Retail Chain: I couldn’t help but notice, during a recent visit to your place of business, that you have an exciting array of new designs just in time for the winter festival season. While I am excited about purchasing many of your items both for myself and as gifts for friends and family, […]
I pushed the door open with both hands and sauntered to the soda counter. Sitting on an old high stool I gazed around and took in the shelves that ran floor to ceiling. The smell of mildew stung the air and I felt as if I were trespassing time itself.
Someone was ranting on the radio today. That’s not unusual, of course. But what caught my attention was the subject of the rant. “I blame computers,” the ranter said. “It’s all this TV and video games and computers that’s ruining the kids. There’s no creativity.” And that got me thinking. First of all, full disclosure: […]
His work was accepted for a month-long gallery showing — that is, until the curator found out the artist was a horse named Buddy.
Iâ€™m grateful to have had the opportunity to help many people tell their stories over the years. Every now and then, I go back and read those stories; I often find Iâ€™m moved all over again – both by the story itself and the great honor to be asked to tell it.
Fatherhood is funny thing. It turns a man who is well-respected at work, considered to be intelligent by his colleagues and clever by his friends, into a complete idiot. Iâ€™m not a father yet, but Iâ€™m already beginning to see that mine isnâ€™t nearly as stupid as he used to be.
I noticed a little something different as I stepped out the door this morning. There was a crispness in the air that I haven’t felt for months. The oppressive heat that had assaulted my nostrils was gone, replaced by cool, fresh air and the scent of freshly turned earth that follows a soaking rain.
I pushed the door open with both hands and sauntered to the soda counter. Sitting on an old high stool I gazed around and took in the shelves that ran floor to ceiling. They were packed solid with merchandise I barely recognized. Trinkets, games and toys lined the walls and even fell onto the floor; the smell of mildew stung the air and I felt as if I was trespassing time itself.
I’ve found that creativity is almost a possession; the work takes over, and you’re not your own again until it’s done. For better or worse, you’re bound to culminate the idea or it will never let you be. It may sound a little scary, but it’s the biggest thrill in the world.
In 1942, Sonja Dubois’ parents were ordered to report to a train station for â€œre-settlementâ€ to a holding camp in the Northeastern part of the Netherlands. In reality, it was nothing more than a stopover on their journey to the gas chambers of Auschwitz.