Living While Dying

Mom – Today you would have been seventy-seven. That number feels strange. Not because I can’t do the math. But

A few months ago, I did the math. Quietly. The kind of math nobody wants to do. The kind where

I pledge my Head to clearer thinking. Though at nine I mostly thought about how to keep from crying at

I have lived under about 655 full moons. Twenty-three of them blue. Every one passed over a different version of

There exists among us a peculiar affliction — the narcissist in ermine, the demagogue draped in gilt…

As our fraternity house enters a new chapter, I found myself thinking less about the building and more about the

Eventually, you realize most of life was not the big moments. Not the speeches. Not the achievements. Not even the

Some people enter your life loudly. Fireworks. Big personalities. Stories that arrive already demanding attention. But the people who save

Saturday mornings started around seven. Not officially. Just the smell of bacon moving through the trailer like an alarm clock.

It’s not what you think. Not about intentions. Not about actions. Now it’s about feeling. Experiencing. The simplest answers: “I’m