Monthly Archives: December 2011


So here we are at the end of 2011.

I will end this year with a story. Maybe it will help you think about where you’d like to be at this time next year. It has certainly given me pause.

Yesterday, one of my family members went to a funeral of a 41-year-old married father of two.

The deceased’s story goes like this: His plans were to give his two weeks’ notice after the first of the year, finally moving on from a job he no longer loved. He and his wife were taking their two kids to another state where they would both start new jobs, in a new home, with a new chapter in the family’s life.

His wife was to put in her notice on Tuesday, but during the middle of the night on Monday, death came.

It was my intention to write a few more posts before the year ended. I wanted to write about an update of progress of my goals for this year, two more posts on Joplin that I never finished, and an end-of-the-year post with my expectations for the new year (aside from the planet’s imminent destruction of course).

Instead, I’ll have to continue on next year.

I hope you have an excellent New Year. Be safe and enjoy your loved ones. Don’t hesitate to do that thing (or things) you’ve always wanted to do.

You never know when your time will run out.


I forgot my glasses today.

It’s so slow around the office, and with so many people out of the city leading up to the Christmas weekend, I knew that busting across town was going to be easy. So, I took a quick break and headed home for my spectacles.

My wife runs a preschool in our home and this month she’s been teaching the kiddos about the different traditions as part of her curriculum. There’s been talk about menorahs, mangers, white-bearded gift-bringers; you get the gist. Today, they were discussing Kwanzaa.

That’s where I come in. I come in the house, interrupting the story time, apologize and go looking for my glasses. Have you ever interrupted storytime? It’s like stabbing a beehive.

Anyway, I search and find my glasses. As I’m making my way out the door, I turn and tell the kids “It was great to see you all again.  You all have a Merry Christmas.”

And then I add, “Or whatever it is you celebrate.”

My wife clued me in. “Everybody here celebrates Christmas,” she said.

And in less than one second, my oldest, information sponge brained, five-year-old daughter said, “Because we’re not black.”

Oh, dear heavens. Kids say the darndest things, don’t they?

Regardless of your race and all that jazz, Merry Christmas!*

* Or whatever it is you celebrate.