There’s a beautiful snow falling and I feel fortunate—a warm home, bread baking in the oven, a strong back for all the shoveling. Much to appreciate. This post, the first I’ve written in some time, is background/context for an essay I wrote on biathlon, “Their Time,”...

I’m jumping back in on this blog. For me, it’s an act of resistance to everything that makes me feel small and insignificant. How, you might be thinking?  I doubt my words matter. I let time go by. I don’t publish to my blog. More time goes by. I feel awkward....

Thirty seconds, some twenty-five years ago and it only lasted that long because I slowed down to a shuffle, careful not to trip on a sidewalk made treacherous by tree roots angling for freedom. Thirty seconds out of my fifty-five years of seconds, all 1 billion and...

"Rippling refers to the fact that each of us creates—often without our conscious intent or knowledge—concentric circles of influence that may affect others for years, even for generations. That is, the effect we have on other people is in turn passed on to others,...

There are days when anything I put into writing sounds trite in the face of what is happening in our world. People are going to work, to shop, to school and never returning home. A mother, a son, a beloved pet, a chair at the table—they wait. Then, not. Today....

I don’t know about you, but mornings like this one—the sounds of wind chimes and rays of pre-dawn light greeting me as I sip coffee—are sometimes accompanied by musings about failure. Wait, you say, this sounds depressing already. Not so, I say in return. Hang on. I...