Happy New Year

My goodness, it’s already January 6th. How are we all feeling? How many of us are relieved the holidays are over? I’ve been ready to get back to work for awhile now. See. I’ve finally admitted some key facts about myself to myself. Let me offer a few stories for context.
Seven years ago, I sat around a dinner table in some restaurant in Tokyo with three friends from high school. One had just admitted he traveled with three stuffed animals. He showed us photos.

Flight Attendants

She stays in my mind because I found her fascinating. I stand by that. It’s not the whole truth, of course.
I’ve already established the fact I don’t know the rules of what I’m allowed to say, about whom, to what level of honesty. While I’m not worried about being canceled, I know what I’m about to say might (nay, will) offend some.
The flight attendant on our flight was a Chinese woman. She told us she’s Chinese; that she came to “…this great country to pursue my dreams.” My guess is

Lingering

I woke up every morning during Christmas season to Bach’s Christmas Oratorio. The timpani, bold and loud and thudding, starts us out by making it known we are to listen. “This is a good piece of music. Pay attention.” Who’s telling me this? Bach? Dad? Do I care? I’ve played this Christmas season since leaving home. I asked Dad to choose the one he likes best my last Christmas at

It Never Occurred to Me

Since Dad’s death last October, I’ve spent time looking through boxes of old letters, photographs, and papers. Why anyone would keep a letter written in 1961 (one of many) is beyond me. I’m wondering if there’s a hoarding tendency in our family I need to note. One of his younger sisters was a hoarder.
One photograph I found has taken me down a lane of nostalgia, giving me an insight

AC Angels

It sounds like a football club in the UK, this. It’s a story about what my not-quite-asleep mind came up with several nights ago.
Sleep is not my friend. It hasn’t been for almost 15 years. It’s mainly stress. Blah blah blah.