memories, events

The End of the Road

The garage was a shrine of grease and memory, its air thick with the scent of motor oil and faded dreams. Elias stood in the shadowed space, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, staring at the car that had been his heartbeat for a decade. The ’67 Mustang gleamed under the flickering fluorescent light—midnight blue, chrome polished to a mirror shine, every curve a testament to the years he’d spent bringing her back to life. He loved her more than anything he’d ever known, from the days of tinkering with her engine to the late nights spent on long drives down empty roads, feeling the rush of the wind against his face as the engine roared to life. Every scratch on her surface held a story, each dent a memory of adventure and freedom that now seemed so far away. But now, standing in the garage, that bittersweet nostalgia twisted in his gut in a way he had never anticipated, for he had to destroy her. It felt like tearing apart a piece of his own soul, a sacrifice made in the name of moving forward, even if doing so meant leaving behind the one thing that had always understood him, the one constant in a world full of change and uncertainty.The call had come that afternoon, clipped and cold from a voice he didn’t recognize: “We know about the car. Stolen VIN, traced back to a chop shop bust in ’09. Crush it by morning, or we turn you in. Your choice.” Choice. What a joke. Turning himself in meant jail, losing everything—his shop, his name, the life he’d clawed out of nothing, piece by piece, through relentless grit and determination. Crushing her meant he could keep breathing, prolong the fleeting moments of freedom he had left, and try to find a way out of the suffocating mess he now found himself in. He’d cursed into the phone, slammed it down, pacing the garage until his boots wore a groove in the dust, the weight of the decision pressing heavily on his chest. The flickering fluorescent light overhead cast shadows that danced like specters of his past decisions, taunting him. But the math didn’t lie: one way he lost her, the other he lost everything else—each option felt like a sentence, a countdown to an inevitable loss that seemed to mock his every effort. Desperation clawed at him, urging him to think of a way out, yet his heart raced with the fear of what lay ahead, the unknown playing cruel tricks on his imagination, as he wrestled with the reality of his choices.

She wasn’t just a car. She was the summer he’d found her, rusted out in a junkyard, a skeleton of what she could be, a forgotten relic left to decay under the unrelenting sun. He’d rebuilt her piece by piece—nights spent hunched under the hood, hands black with grease, radio crackling old rock tunes, the air thick with the sweet scent of gasoline and promise. Each bolt he tightened, each dent he hammered out, brought not only life back to her body but also a sense of purpose to his own weary soul. She’d carried him through the worst of it: the divorce that shattered his heart, the bank breathing down his neck with threats that felt all too real, the days he didn’t want to get up, when the weight of the world seemed unbearable. Her engine’s roar was the sound of freedom, an anthem to the resilience that silently painted his days with newfound color; her wheel under his hands the only thing that ever felt like home, a sanctuary amidst the chaos. He’d named her Lola, whispered to her like she could hear him, sharing his secrets and dreams, and maybe she could, wrapped in the mystery of their bond, an unspoken understanding that transcended words. Together, they forged memories on winding roads, their adventure an escape, as the miles stretched beneath them like the fabric of a life reborn.

The sledgehammer leaned against the workbench, its head dull and heavy, a silent testament to the destruction about to unfold. Elias picked it up, feeling the weight settle into his bones, a physical reminder of the decision he had made. His throat tightened as he stepped closer, the Mustang’s grille staring back like a loyal dog that didn’t know what was coming, its once-pristine shine now a cruel contrast to his growing fury. He raised the hammer, hesitated for just a moment as memories flooded his mind—the late nights spent polishing the chrome, weekends dedicated to tuning the engine, and dreams of cruising down the coast. With a deep breath, he brought it down. The windshield shattered with a sound like a gunshot, glass spraying across the hood in a million tiny facets that sparkled in the light, an ironic beauty to the chaos. He swung again, denting the fender he’d spent months perfecting, the metal groaning under the blow as if it were mourning its own fate. Each hit was a wound—headlights smashed, doors caved in with a satisfying crunch, the roof buckling like a broken spine under relentless assault. His arms burned, sweat dripping into his eyes as his breath came in ragged bursts, yet he didn’t stop; he couldn’t stop, driven by an emotion he could hardly name, until she was unrecognizable, a heap of twisted steel and shattered pride, a manifestation of all his frustration and loss, standing as a grim reminder of what he once cherished and had been forced to destroy.

When it was over, he dropped the hammer, his hands trembling, knuckles flecked with blood where the skin had split. The garage was silent except for the drip of coolant pooling beneath her corpse, a tragic reminder of the devastating decision he had made. He’d killed her. Ten years of late nights spent in the glow of fluorescent lights, of scrounging for parts from rickety salvage yards, of feeling alive every time he turned the key—all gone in twenty minutes of a blinding moment fueled by panic and desperation. He could’ve fought, could’ve tracked down the bastard on the phone, taken the risk that lingered in the back of his mind like a ghost; he could have saved her. But he’d chosen survival over loyalty, sacrificing everything that had once mattered to him for a fleeting chance at escape. The shame of it burned worse than the ache in his shoulders, a searing guilt that wrapped around him like a vise, squeezing out any semblance of comfort he might have found in the remnants of his former life. The tools that had once brought him joy now lay scattered, mocking him with their uselessness as he stood there, grappling with the irreversible reality of what he had done.

Tomorrow, he’d haul what was left to the scrapyard, watch the crusher finish what he’d started, and tell himself it was worth it. The cops wouldn’t come, the shop would stay open, life would grind on. But tonight, Elias sank onto the cold concrete, staring at the wreckage of the thing he’d loved most—his heart heavy with memories. The echo of her engine still ringing in his ears, a haunting melody of joy and freedom now turned to sorrow. The garage felt emptier than it ever had, and so did he, as he reminisced about the countless nights spent tinkering, the laughter shared, the dreams discussed under the flickering fluorescent lights. Each dent and scratch on the car told a story, a testament to their journey together, and now, with the realization that it was all coming to an end, a deep sense of loss enveloped him. Each breath felt labored as he mourned not just the loss of the car, but the pieces of himself that had been intertwined with it, leaving an ache that would linger long after the metal was crushed and gone.

Celebrating 30 Years of Love: Our Anniversary Journey

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Today marks a significant milestone in our lives as we celebrate our 30th anniversary together, a journey filled with love, laughter, and cherished memories. It was on April 22, 1995, that we exchanged our vows, embarking on a beautiful adventure that has only grown richer with the passing years. Over the decades, we have navigated the ups and downs of life, always finding strength in our partnership, and today we reflect on the countless moments that have shaped our story.

This was a midlife marriage, a time when many people begin to reflect on their past choices and seek new beginnings. Dee, my wife, and I had both experienced previous marriages that came to a shocking end, leaving us with a complex array of emotions and lessons learned. We met later in life, both carrying the weight of our pasts but also a renewed hope for the future. Our shared experiences brought us closer, allowing us to understand each other in ways that maybe we couldn’t have at a younger age. We embarked on this journey together, committed to creating a loving and supportive partnership that we had both longed for.

We picked up each other and have forged an extraordinary, lasting relationship over forty remarkable years, overflowing with priceless memories and vibrant experiences that have only deepened the flames of our bond. Throughout these decades, we have passionately navigated the exhilarating highs and heart-wrenching lows of life together, fiercely supporting one another through every challenge and joy, allowing our love to blossom and intensify with each precious moment we share.

I look at her now and realize how fortunate and lucky that our lives crossed, as each moment spent together has woven rich memories into the fabric of our existence, shaping my understanding of love, friendship, and the beauty of shared experiences. Her laughter sparkles like sunlight breaking through the clouds, illuminating the darkest days, and the deep conversations we’ve had have opened my eyes to new perspectives that I had never considered before. The journey we’ve embarked on together has not only strengthened our bond but has also enriched our souls, creating a unique path that feels both surprising and beautifully destined.

Hopefully we will have many healthy years together, filled with joyful memories, shared adventures, and the kind of love that grows stronger with each passing day. As we navigate the ups and downs of life, I look forward to cherishing every moment and supporting each other through challenges, all while creating a lifetime of happiness and laughter.

The Forgotten Letter

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Jeff was rummaging through his grandmother’s attic when he stumbled upon an old dresser, its chipped paint revealing layers of forgotten colors beneath, and its creaky drawers protesting with each movement. As he peered closer, a curious sensation washed over him, compelling him to investigate further. Feeling something odd behind the dresser, he moved it aside with a careful nudge, revealing an envelope wedged tightly against the wall, yellowed and brittle with age, coated in a fine layer of dust that spoke to years of neglect. The postmark reads “March 16, 1942,” and his heart quickens as he realizes it’s addressed to a name he doesn’t recognize: “Roseann Westbrook.” Intrigued, he examines the envelope more closely, noting there’s no return address to provide any clues about the sender, just a faded stamp and a wax seal, cracked but intact, bearing an unfamiliar crest—a snake with a key in its mouth—that left him wondering about the secrets contained within this unexpected discovery. What stories were hidden in the words that lay inside, and who was the mysterious Roseann Westbrook?

Curiosity gets the better of him. He peels it open, careful not to tear the fragile paper, marveling at the way the sunlight catches the edges, illuminating the delicate fibers woven into its texture. Inside, the handwriting is elegant but shaky, as if written in a hurry or under strain, revealing the urgency behind the words crafted on the page. The letter begins with a flourish, yet there’s an underlying tremor that suggests a deep-seated fear or a profound longing, drawing him further into the unfolding story that lies within these lines. He hesitates for a moment, sensing that what follows may change everything he thought he knew.

“Roseann, if you’re reading this, it means I failed. The house isn’t safe anymore. They know where it is, and they’ll come for it next, relentless and hungry for the secrets it holds. Keep the key hidden, buried deep where only you can find it, far from prying eyes. Trust no one—not even yourself, as doubts can creep in like shadows at dusk, clouding your judgment. Burn this when you’re done, but first, remember every detail of our time there; the walls whisper with memories that could unravel everything we’ve built. Your safety depends on your vigilance. Stay alert and be prepared to act swiftly if they come for you.”

It’s signed only with an initial: “L.” Tucked into the envelope is a small, tarnished brass key, its teeth worn but intricate, like it belongs to something old and important, perhaps a treasure chest filled with memories or a long-forgotten diary holding secrets waiting to be uncovered. There’s no indication of who “they” are, what “it” is, or why Roseann never got this letter, a mystery that weighs heavily in the air. Jeff never heard of a Roseann Westbrook, yet he feels an inexplicable connection to the name, as if it echoes through time and space. The dresser’s previous owner—a distant relative, maybe, or a stranger from an estate sale—offers no clues, leaving Jeff to ponder the significance of the key and the life of the woman it was meant for, igniting a flame of curiosity that fuels his imagination about the untold stories and hidden connections linking him to a past he never knew.

At first, Jeff dismisses it as a quirky relic, a piece of someone else’s story that has too carelessly found its way into his possession. But then, as the days pass, strange things start happening, and what once felt innocuous now feels unsettlingly invasive. Jeff notices a car lingering too long outside his house, its driver obscured by tinted windows, watching as if waiting for something significant to occur. A faint tapping echoes from the walls at night, like something—or someone—searching, probing with an urgency that sends shivers down his spine. Each night, the sounds grow more pronounced, the air thick with an unshakable tension. And the key, which you left on your nightstand, keeps turning up in odd places: your coat pocket, the fridge, the bottom of a drawer he hadn’t opened in weeks, as if it has a will of its own, taunting him with its mysterious reappearances. He begins to wonder if these occurrences are all connected, weaving a web of intrigue that pulls him deeper into a narrative he feels he doesn’t fully understand.

The letter changes his life in ways you couldn’t predict. Maybe Jeff should start digging into Roseann’s Westbrook identity—uncovering a trail of missing persons reports that leads him down a dark alley of forgotten stories, a house that burned down decades ago with whispers of tragedy surrounding it, or a local legend about a hidden vault no one’s ever found, said to hold secrets that could unravel the very fabric of his understanding. As he delves deeper, he wonders if the key itself begins to unlock not just physical doors, but also the very essence of reality: a door in Jeff’s basement that wasn’t there before, beckoning him with an eerie aura, a memory that feels like it belongs to someone else, complete with vivid details he cannot explain, or a long-buried secret about his own family that he was never meant to uncover, one that casts a shadow over his entire past. The more Jeff learns, the more he realizes “they” might still be out there—and now they’re watching him, lurking in the corners of his life, waiting patiently for the moment he strays too far into the depths of what was supposed to remain hidden.

Who was Roseann Westbrook, and why didn’t she get the letter that seemed to hold the weight of the world? Was she truly betrayed by those closest to her, lying in eternal silence, or had she simply vanished from the clutches of her reality when it arrived? The implications of that letter are profound—what does the key within it unlock—a physical place steeped in history, a long-buried secret that could alter everything, or perhaps something far more supernatural that defies explanation? And then there is the enigmatic figure known only as “L”; who are they, and what crucial task did they fail to undertake that changed the course of so many lives? Are they still alive, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the moment when someone will finally finish what they started, or have they too disappeared into obscurity? This intricate web of mystery reshapes Jeff’s life in ways he could never have anticipated, pushing him into uncharted territories of despair and hope. Yet, the ultimate question lingers like a haunting refrain—one may never truly know the answers, as Jeff mysteriously disappeared and was never seen again, leaving behind a trail of questions that may never find resolution.

Measles Resurgence

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What You Need to Know

As of April 9, 2025, measles is making headlines in Colorado, raising alarm bells among public health officials and residents alike. This highly contagious, vaccine-preventable disease, once nearly eradicated in the United States, is showing signs of resurgence. With three confirmed cases reported in the state this year, it’s time to take a closer look at what’s happening, why it’s a problem, and what we can do about it.

Colorado has seen a troubling increase in measles cases recently. The first case was confirmed on March 31 in an unvaccinated adult from Pueblo who traveled to Mexico, followed by an unvaccinated infant diagnosed on April 7 after a trip to Chihuahua. Most concerning is a third case on April 8 in Archuleta County—an adult with unknown vaccination status who hadn’t traveled outside the state, suggesting the virus may be circulating locally.

Measles is more than just a childhood rash—it’s a serious illness that can cause severe problems, especially for those who aren’t vaccinated. Symptoms usually begin with fever, cough, runny nose, and red, watery eyes, followed by a rash that spreads downward from the face. While most people heal, the dangers are significant: about one in five unvaccinated people who get measles may require hospitalization. For children, it can lead to pneumonia, brain swelling (encephalitis), or even death—up to three in every 1,000 infected kids may not survive.

The disease’s contagiousness is what makes it so dangerous. Measles spreads through the air when an infected person coughs or sneezes, and the virus can linger in a room for up to two hours after they’ve left. If 90% of unvaccinated people in that space are exposed, they’ll likely catch it. That’s why vaccination rates matter so much—when 95% of a community is immunized, “herd immunity” kicks in, protecting even those who can’t get vaccinated, like infants or people with certain medical conditions.

Colorado’s vaccination rates are dropping, posing a serious problem. For the 2023-2024 school year, only 93.7% of K-12 students were fully vaccinated against measles with the MMR vaccine, below the 95% needed for herd immunity. Some areas, like Archuleta County, report even lower rates of about 87%. Low vaccination rates are common across the state, particularly in rural districts and places like Boulder, where hesitancy persists despite high education and income levels.

Travel is another critical factor influencing the spread of infectious diseases. Two of Colorado’s recent cases were directly linked to international trips to Mexico, where outbreaks are still ongoing and health officials are closely monitoring the situation. With spring break season in full swing and summer travel quickly approaching, the risk of importing measles into the state—or exacerbating its spread within local communities—grows significantly. Additionally, Colorado’s diverse and mobile population, which includes residents and visitors frequently traveling for work, recreation, or family visits, means these cases might not remain isolated for long. As people interact in various settings such as airports, hotels, and public events, the potential for transmission increases, posing a challenge to public health efforts aimed at controlling the outbreak and ensuring community safety.

The Colorado Department of Public Health and Environment (CDPHE) is on high alert. They’re working with local health agencies in Pueblo, Denver, and Archuleta County to investigate these cases, identify potential exposure sites, and notify anyone who might have been at risk. For example, people who visited Southwest Deli and Cafe in Pueblo from March 17-21, Denver Health’s ER on April 6, or Wolf Creek Ski Area from March 28-30 are being told to watch for symptoms like fever or rash for 21 days after possible exposure.

The CDPHE is also pushing hard on vaccination. The MMR vaccine is 97% effective after two doses, and it’s the best defense we’ve got. They’re encouraging everyone—especially those planning travel—to check their vaccination status via the Colorado Immunization Information System (CIIS) and get vaccinated if needed. For infants 6-11 months heading to outbreak areas, an early dose is recommended, even though the standard schedule starts at 12-15 months.

Here’s how to keep yourself and your community safe:

Check Your Status: If you’re unsure whether you’ve had two MMR doses, ask your doctor or check the CIIS portal. Adults born after 1957 who got vaccinated before 1968 might need a booster, as early vaccines were less effective.
Get Vaccinated: It’s not too late. The MMR shot can even prevent infection if given within 72 hours of exposure. Pharmacies, clinics, and doctor’s offices across Colorado offer it, often at low or no cost.
Monitor Symptoms: If you’ve been to a potential exposure site, watch for signs of measles for three weeks. If you feel sick, call your doctor ahead of time—don’t just show up and risk spreading it.
Spread the Word: Talk to friends and family about vaccination. Misinformation has fueled hesitancy, but the science is clear: the MMR vaccine is safe and it works.

Will these three cases fizzle out, or are we on the brink of a larger outbreak? That depends on us. Colorado hasn’t seen locally transmitted measles since the mid-1990s, but with 607 cases nationwide this year—mostly tied to outbreaks in Texas and New Mexico—the threat is real. Texas alone has reported over 500 cases and two child deaths, a stark reminder of what’s at stake.

I remember when I had measles in grade school. It was a time filled with discomfort and frustration, as I felt utterly miserable and would not wish it on anyone. The rash that covered my body itched incessantly, and I found myself unable to resist scratching, which led to scarring on my forehead that lasted for a considerable amount of time. This particular spot became a reminder of my illness, a place where I scratched without fully realizing the consequences. It was one of the many childhood diseases one had to endure during that era. This experience took place before vaccines were discovered, leaving countless children to grapple with ailments that could have been easily prevented. My days were spent confined to bed, surrounded by the faint sounds of laughter from my friends outside, a stark contrast to the isolation I felt during that time.

Ramblings Magazine Issue #11

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The Edge of Nightmares, Confronting the Unknown

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Sometimes I have the strangest dreams, where the boundaries of reality blur and the impossible becomes palpable, weaving intricate stories that leave me questioning their origins as I wake, caught between the allure of the bizarre and the comfort of my everyday life. These dreams transport me to fantastical realms where gravity loses its grip and colors pulsate with life, inviting me to dance with shadows and converse with whispers of forgotten tales. In this surreal tapestry, I often find myself on the precipice of fear and wonder, exploring landscapes that defy logic, yet feel oddly familiar, as if they were fragments of my own forgotten memories. As I drift further into slumber, the lines between my day-to-day existence and these vividly twisted narratives continue to intertwine, drawing me into a hypnotic cycle of fantasy that is both thrilling and unsettling. I guess I should watch what I eat for supper.

I steady myself on the jagged cliff’s edge, the volcanic wasteland sprawling before me like a nightmare carved in fire and stone. The heat rising from the glowing fissures sears my skin even through your worn-out gear, and the ash in the air clings to my face, gritty and relentless. That low rumble grows into a bone-deep shudder, and a plume of sparks erupts from a nearby crevasse, showering the ground with flecks of molten light. The cliff groans under my weight, a hairline fracture spiderwebbing out from my boot—time’s not on my side here.

Below, the twisted metal spires glint dully through the haze, their skeletal frames half-buried in drifts of blackened sand. You squint and catch more movement: those shadows aren’t just tricks of the light. They’re humanoid, but their jerky, deliberate motions suggest they’re either desperate or deranged—maybe both. One pauses, head tilting as if it’s caught my scent on the wind, and a glint of something sharp flashes in its hand. Bandits, scavengers, or survivors gone feral; doesn’t matter—they’re trouble. Beyond them, a faint green flicker pulses from one of the spires, maybe a working power source or a trap waiting to spring.

MY satchel slaps against my hip as I shift, the weight of its meager contents a grim reminder of your odds. The energy cell’s got enough juice for a single burst—maybe to power a tool or fry something coming at me, but it’s a one-shot deal. The canteen’s metal is dented, water sloshing low, barely enough to wet my throat in this furnace. The comms device crackles again, spitting out a distorted fragment: “…sector breach… containment failing…” before it dies back into static. Could be a warning, could be old noise—either way, it’s not calling for help anytime soon.

That howl cuts through the air again, closer now, reverberating off the cliffs. I risk a glance over my shoulder and spot something loping through the ash clouds—a hulking shape, too big for a man, its outline bristling with spines or jagged plating. It’s not rushing me yet, but it’s circling, testing. The wind shifts, carrying a stench of sulfur and rot, and you realize it’s not alone; smaller shapes skitter in its wake, like pups trailing a predator.

The cliff’s fracture widens with a sickening crunch, echoing through the still air and sending a jolt of adrenaline through my veins, forcing me to decide between dropping down toward the jagged spires below, where darkness lurks and the shadows seem to breathe with menace, or backtracking into the desolate wastes where that relentless creature is stalking my every move. The green flicker in the distance pulses again, a beacon of uncertainty that tempts me with the slim chance of salvage or a fleeting sanctuary, but I wonder if it’s a mirage, a cruel trick played by the landscape to ensnare me further in danger. My hand hovers over the energy cell, the weight of my choices pressing heavily on my chest, pulse hammering in my ears as I grip it tightly, trying to quell the rising tide of panic and indecision that threatens to paralyze me. What’s my play? Each option seems fraught with peril, yet the instinct for survival urges me to act before the cliff crumbles further, plunging me into deeper chaos. Fortunately, I woke up.

Thinking about end of life

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I am closer to the end of life than I was 20 years ago, and I must admit it is on my mind more than it was 20 years ago. Over the years, I have seen friends and loved ones face their own mortality, which has inevitably made me more reflective about my own existence and the passage of time. Each day that passes serves as a reminder of the impermanence of life, prompting me to cherish my moments more deeply and to prioritize relationships and experiences that truly matter. As I navigate through my daily routines, thoughts about what I want to achieve before my time comes linger, shaping my decisions and encouraging me to live with intention while appreciating both the simple pleasures and profound connections along the way.

Thinking about waiting until the end of life stirs a mix of emotions—dread, curiosity, peace, or even impatience, depending on where one stands. It’s a contemplation that often creeps in during quiet moments, when the noise of the day fades and you’re left with the hum of your own thoughts. Some might picture it as a distant horizon, a finish line they’re in no rush to reach, while others see it as a looming shadow, sharpening their focus on what matters now.

The idea of waiting implies a kind of surrender to time—an acceptance that life’s chapters will unfold at their own pace. You might wonder what you’d do differently if you knew the exact page count. Would you linger more on the good days, savoring the small joys—a warm coffee, a laugh with a friend, the way sunlight spills through a window? Or would you race to tie up loose ends, chasing closure like it’s a deadline?

For some, it’s less about waiting and more about preparing. They might ask: Have I said what needs saying? Have I loved enough, fought enough, rested enough? Others might reject the question entirely, choosing instead to live as if the end isn’t a dot on the map but a blur they’ll deal with when it arrives. There’s no universal script for this. It’s personal, messy, and human.

Philosophers have chewed on this for centuries, contemplating the intricate dance between life and death. Stoics like Seneca urged us to think of death daily—not to morbidly obsess over it, but to sharpen our appreciation for the present moment and the fleeting nature of existence. “You live as if you were destined to live forever,” he wrote, nudging us to stop wasting time on trivial pursuits and to embrace the now with intention. This perspective invites us to reflect on our priorities and the ephemeral beauty in our lives. Meanwhile, someone like Camus might argue that it’s the absurdity of the end that gives life its edge—knowing it stops is what makes it worth wrestling with. The recognition of our mortality can ignite a fiery passion for living fully and authentically, pushing us to confront the chaos and meaninglessness while simultaneously finding joy in the struggle itself. Embracing both the transient and the absurd can lead to a richer, more profound experience of life, encouraging us to seek out connections, love, and purpose amidst the inevitable decay.

In the end, thinking about waiting till the end of life isn’t really about the end itself. It’s about what you do with the stretch in between—the hours, the years, the fleeting now that slip through your fingers like grains of sand. Whether you wait quietly, reflecting on moments that shaped your existence, or charge toward it with fervor and passion, the clock ticks the same for everyone, indifferent to our individual journeys. What changes is how you listen to it, how you interpret its passing, and how you choose to fill the time allotted to you. Each second can be a brushstroke on the canvas of your life, each minute an opportunity for joy, love, and connection. I have experienced a preview of time after life on this earth, glimpsing the ethereal realm that awaits us, and I truly believe a new experience and adventure waits for all, urging us to embrace the journey with open hearts and curious minds, ready to explore the mysteries that lie beyond.

My 2001 S10 Chevy Pickup

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Saying Goodbye to My Trusty 2001 S10 Chevy Pickup

For over two decades, my 2001 S10 Chevy Pickup was more than just a vehicle—it was a reliable companion. I bought it back in the day with a clear purpose: to tackle my 18-mile commute to work. It did that job faithfully, day in and day out, without complaint. But as life shifted gears, so did my need for it. I retired in 2006, and since then, the little truck’s role in my life slowly faded. In the last couple of years, I barely put 500 miles on it annually. With just 75,000 miles on the odometer, it still had plenty of life left, but it was clear it was time to let go.

The decision to sell wasn’t easy. That truck had been a steady presence, sitting in the garage, ready whenever I needed it. But practicality won out. It wasn’t getting much use anymore, and I figured I could save a bit on insurance and the occasional upkeep. Besides, a vehicle like that deserves to be driven, not just parked. So, after some thought, I decided to sell it to someone who’d appreciate it as much as I did—my son-in-law, Steve.

Steve was thrilled to take it off my hands. He’s always had a soft spot for that kind of truck, and I knew he’d treat it right. Sure enough, he’s been taking great care of it—keeping it clean, staying on top of any little things it needs, and driving it with the kind of enthusiasm I had back when it was my daily ride. What’s even better is that he’s told me I can borrow it anytime I want. It’s nice to know it’s still in the family, and I can hop in for a spin whenever nostalgia hits.

That S10 was a good truck—rock-solid and dependable. In all the years I owned it, the only repair it ever needed was a new oxygen sensor. That’s it. No major breakdowns, no headaches. Just a tough little pickup that got the job done. Even now, after letting it go, I miss it. There’s something about the hum of that engine and the feel of the wheel in my hands that tugs at me every now and then.

Selling it to Steve feels right, though. It’s not gone forever—just passed along to someone who’ll give it the miles and memories it deserves. I’m glad it’s in good hands, and I’ll always look back on my time with that Chevy with a smile.

My Car Speaks Out

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I am a 2022 Honda HRV, a compact yet mighty crossover, designed to navigate the urban jungle with a touch of adventure. My story begins in the bright, bustling lot of a Honda dealership, where I gleamed under the sun, my coat of Urban Gray Metallic catching the eyes of passersby.

My owner, Tom, found me on a crisp autumn day. He circled around, inspecting my sleek lines and spacious interior. I could feel his approval as he ran his hands over my alloy wheels and checked out my cargo space. There was an instant connection, and soon, I was rolling out of the dealership, my engine purring with excitement.

The first journey with Tom was memorable. We ventured out of the city, and I found myself navigating through winding country roads, my all-wheel-drive system gripping the pavement with confidence. The scenery was a blur of colors, but I felt every curve, every incline, as if I were part of the landscape itself.

Life with Tom was full of small adventures. We’d often drive to the local park where he’d open my tailgate, revealing the convenience of my Magic Seat feature, perfect for his weekend camping gear or a quick picnic. I loved those moments when the sun set, casting golden rays through my windows, warming the interior while Tom enjoyed his Gatorade.

Winter arrived, and I proved my mettle. With my heated seats and climate control, we kept cozy even on the chilliest days. The snow didn’t daunt me; my snow mode ensured we navigated through the white landscapes with ease. There was a sense of pride when I managed to get us out of the snowy parking lots where others were stuck.

But it wasn’t all about the adventures. I was there for the mundane too – the daily commutes, the grocery runs, the quiet drives to the library or to visit friends. Each journey, no matter how short, was a chance for me to serve and to be appreciated. Tom would sometimes talk to me, not expecting a reply, but I listened. I heard about his day, his plans, his hopes. It made me feel like more than just a vehicle; I was a companion.

Then there was the music. Tom loved his tunes, and my audio system was just right for him, filling the cabin with his favorite beats, making each drive a little concert. The joy of music, the beat matching the rhythm of my engine, it was a harmony unique to us. Tom was overjoyed when he discovered my UBS feature. Now he can bring thousands of his favorites copied onto a thumb drive and never hear the same song twice.

One day, we took a long road trip. The open road was liberating, the horizon endless. My fuel efficiency meant fewer stops, more miles under my wheels. We saw mountains, forests, and at one point, we pulled over at a viewpoint. Tom sat on my hood, watching the sunset, and I felt a sense of accomplishment for bringing him to such a beautiful place.

As time passed, I’ve seen maintenance days – oil changes, tire rotations – but each visit to the mechanic was a testament to how well Tom cared for me. I was not just a machine; I was a part of his life, his story.

Now, as I sit here, perhaps parked in the garage, I look back on these days with fondness. I’ve been more than a vehicle; I’ve been a part of Tom’s journey, his companion through the seasons, through the ups and downs. Here’s to many more adventures, to the bond that forms between a car and its owner, to the road less traveled, and to the road yet to come.

Retirement Ramblings

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Retirement is a highlight in one’s life, representing freedom and the culmination of decades of hard work and dedication. You work many years, and the ultimate goal is to retire in comfort and enjoy your remaining years with a sense of peace and fulfillment. Retirement is one of the American dreams that can come true, offering opportunities to travel, pursue hobbies, or simply relax in the company of loved ones. It takes meticulous planning and disciplined saving to reach this desired goal, ensuring that you can sustain your lifestyle and meet your needs during this new phase of life. Additionally, it takes a little luck for all the cards to fall in place so that retirement can happen, including factors like market conditions, health, and unexpected life events. The journey to retirement is both a financial and emotional endeavor, demanding foresight and resilience to navigate the challenges along the way.

Since I retired eighteen years ago, I will share what I did to help me live comfortably in retirement. First, I made sure all my credit cards were paid off, ensuring that I was not burdened with unnecessary debt. The only balances I had in credit cards were monthly expenses, such as groceries and utilities, and they were paid off totally every month to avoid interest charges. I also took the time to thoroughly inquire about what my social security monthly amount would be, as well as the small pension amounts we would receive after retirement, understanding the importance of knowing our financial limits. Additionally, I reviewed the condition of the vehicles in our household, assessing how many years they would realistically last before needing replacement, which helped with long-term planning. Then, I made a tentative budget to see if our retirement income would cover the necessary expenses every month, analyzing all aspects of our financial needs. Entertainment items, such as trips and vacations, which were important for our quality of life, would come out of our savings rather than our monthly income. After careful consideration and planning, the decision was made to retire, with the hope that our finances would not only support us but would last longer than our lifetimes, allowing us to enjoy this new chapter without the constant stress of financial insecurity.

Everything was doing ok until the financial crash of 2008. At that time, our portfolio showed unrealized losses to be over one half of our total assets, which was quite alarming. The decision had to be made to sell the stocks and change the unrealized losses to realized losses, a choice that weighed heavily on my mind. Since I didn’t need the money immediately, I elected to keep the stock, hoping that the value of the investment would eventually return to the purchase price before making a sale. It was a gamble that I felt was worth taking, as selling in a downturn often leads to regret. We didn’t make any money, but we didn’t lose any either, which was a small consolation in such volatile times. It took about seven years to finally regain all our original investments, a journey filled with uncertainty and anxiety. These were scary times, marked by constant headlines of market turmoil and fears of a prolonged recession. In light of this turmoil, the decision was made to pull out of the stock market completely and invest solely in secure assets, like bonds and real estate, which appeared to offer a more stable return. I was just becoming too old to live with that stress and insecurity; my health was starting to feel the strain of worrying over fluctuating markets. Since then, we have been okay financially, cautiously navigating this new approach to investing, and it has provided a greater sense of peace and security in our lives.

As you become older, health issues tend to hamper retirement plans, often causing individuals to rethink their aspirations and dreams. The vacations and trips that once seemed so enticing and achievable now appear to be shelved because of these unforeseen health challenges. We have had over eighteen years of comfortable retirement, filled with cherished memories and joyful experiences, and we feel very fortunate to have enjoyed these years. Each day brings a new opportunity to appreciate the simple pleasures of life, but we are also mindful of the limitations that can come with aging. Hopefully, we will have many more years to explore the world around us, to create lasting memories with loved ones, and to continue embracing life with the same vigor and enthusiasm we once had.

Rover and Socks

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Rover: Hey, Socks! What’s the deal with your windowsill throne? Do you think you’re the queen of England or just auditioning for a feline royal reality show? I mean, lounging there like you own the place, with your snooty little nose in the air while the birds put on their daily aerial show—do you even lift a paw? I can’t decide if you’re a majestic ruler or just an expert sunbather. Seriously, what goes through that fluffy head of yours as you plot world domination from your sunny perch?

Socks: Because I do own the place, Rover. It’s a tough job being this fabulous, but someone’s got to do it! You see, it’s called being superior—a title that comes with the royal perks of elegance and grace, which apparently you missed out on while frolicking in a tail-chasing frenzy. Meanwhile, I’m up here surveying my domain, looking regal from the highest perch while you tumble into yet another round of your never-ending antics. It’s a demanding life of leisure and poise, one that requires a level of finesse that clearly zipped right past your wagging tail!

Rover: Tail-chasing is all the rage! Seriously, you should give it a whirl instead of snoozing like a bear in hibernation. Live a little! There’s nothing quite like the sheer thrill of zooming in circles, wind flapping your fur like those ridiculous car ads, and feeling like the king of your own hilarious chase. It’s not just a game; it’s a cardio workout disguised as fun! Just think, you can turn the most boring day into an epic adventure with a little tail-twirling chaos. So let that inner goofball shine, lose yourself in the delight of chasing your own tail, and who knows—you might just discover the secret to a happier life is all in the spin!

Cat: Napping is basically my superpower, you drooling furball! I’m just recharging my batteries for the crucial duties ahead—like my not-so-secret mission of judging the humans, who hilariously think they run this place. While I blissfully doze, I’m orchestrating my next regal takeover, all while mildly entertained by their daily circus acts. It’s a riot watching them dash around, tackling one errand after another, completely oblivious to the divine joys of a sunbeam or a rogue feather swaying in the breeze. Trust me, my naps aren’t just for show; they’re tactical retreats, moments for plotting my rightful reign over this household!

Rover: Judging? I’d rather lick ‘em! They’re the best treats I could ever imagine. Who else gives me delicious snacks just for sitting? It’s like magic! Every time I hear that rustle of the treat bag, my tail wags furiously, and I can hardly contain my excitement. The way they reward me makes me feel so loved and appreciated; it’s not just about the food, but the bond we share whenever I perform my best tricks.

Socks: Ugh, your standards are so low. I get treats for existing, and it’s called finesse. You see, it’s not just about being present; it’s about the charm and grace I bring to the room. I flaunt my adorable little paws and my irresistibly fluffy fur, and that’s what gets me those delightful snacks. Why settle for less when I can dazzle everyone with my quirks? After all, who wouldn’t want to spoil a pet with such an unmatched personality? It’s all part of the game, and trust me, I’m winning it every day!

Rover: Finesse? More like laziness. Bet you can’t catch a ball like I can! I’ve perfected my techniques after countless hours of practice in the park, chasing after sticks and bouncing balls, leaving my friends in awe of my skills. With my lightning-quick reflexes and unmatched enthusiasm, there’s no doubt that I am the ultimate fetch champion. So, bring it on! Let’s see you try to keep up with my agility and catching prowess!

Socks: Why would I catch a ball when I can catch a mouse? That’s skill, not just slobbering after a toy. While the other dogs might chase after those brightly colored balls, I find a thrill in the chase that’s much more adventurous and exciting. The soft rustling of tiny paws, the quick darting here and there, and the challenge of outsmarting my furry little opponent. It’s a game of wits, and it requires precision and agility that goes beyond mere instinct. I relish the satisfaction of a well-executed capture, proving that I’m not just a plaything chaser but a true hunter at heart.

Rover: Mice are boring. You ever try barking at the mailman? Gets the blood pumping! There’s nothing quite like the excitement of watching him approach, the way my fur bristles with anticipation as I prepare to make my move. The thrill builds in my chest, and I can’t help but let out a few barks, expressing my excitement and guarding my territory. With every delivery, it’s a new adventure, a chance to showcase my protective instincts and earn my place as the watchdog of the house. Plus, the look on the mailman’s face is priceless; it’s like I’m a part of a comedy show that’s never quite the same from one day to the next!

Socks: And wake up the whole neighborhood? No thanks. I prefer a quiet stalk—stealth is my style. There’s something exhilarating about moving silently, slipping through the shadows where only the faintest whispers of wind can be heard. Each paw step is deliberate, calculated, as I navigate across the familiar terrain, evading the blaring sounds of daily life. The thrill of remaining unnoticed, blending into the dusk, allows me to observe without being seen, to feel the pulse of the night without disturbing its serenity. It’s a dance of caution and cunning, where the thrill of the hunt mingles with the peace of solitude.

Rover: Stealth? You mean sneaking into my bed when I’m not looking, like a shadow in the night, quietly tiptoeing across the floor, as if on a secret mission? It’s as if you have mastered the art of silent approach, waiting for the perfect moment to curl up beside me, while I’m blissfully unaware, wrapped up in my dreams.

Socks: It is not sneaking it is claiming what is mine. You are just too dumb to notice.

Rover: Well, I’ll share it with you anyway. You’re not so bad, Socks; in fact, I’ve come to appreciate your company more than I initially thought I would. It’s surprising how two different personalities can find common ground and enjoy each other’s presence. I’ve seen your cleverness in navigating tricky situations, and it’s made me respect you a little more. After all, who would have thought that a dog and a cat could share stories under the stars and laugh at the silliest things together?

Socks: Hmph. You’re tolerable, I suppose… for a loud, smelly beast. Despite your constant racket, which often disrupts my peaceful moments, there’s an undeniable charm in your antics. Your boisterous nature might be overwhelming at times, but it certainly brings a unique energy to the room. I find myself reluctantly drawn to your quirks; the way you bound around with excitement, even if it leaves a trail of chaos behind. So, while I may refer to you as a beast, I must admit that your presence adds a layer of unpredictability that, oddly enough, I can appreciate.

Rover: Wanna chase the squirrel outside together? It looks like it’s darting around in the yard, and I can already feel the excitement building inside me! Just imagine the thrill of running after it, weaving through the trees and bushes while enjoying the fresh air and sunshine. What do you say we head out, let our energy loose, and see if we can catch that little critter before it scurries up a tree?

Socks: …Fine. But I’m leading. When it comes to navigating through this tangled mess, I know exactly where to go. I’ve got a plan in mind, a clear direction that’s been brewing for a while. You may have ideas too, but it’s time to trust my instincts on this one. We can’t afford to waste time wandering aimlessly, and I promise to keep everyone focused and on track. So let’s gear up and follow my lead, because I have a feeling this is going to be quite the adventure.

My Legacy 2nd Edition

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Audio PODCAST AI ASSISTED

On May 21, 2024, I posted this blog. I have been interested in AI (artificial intelligence) lately and I thought I would try something. The first section is the original post and the second is the same post, but I used AI to enhance the post.

ORIGINAL

I never thought much about a legacy until after my near-death experience in February of 2023. My Bloodclot (Podcast). After the event I started to reconcile my life and thought, “why was I given a second chance?” I must have some unfinished business to do before my journey is over. I am just a mere mortal. I do not jump over tall buildings or stop speeding bullets. All I have is over eighty years of life on this earth. Searching for the purpose of a second chance I have decided to write about events and experiences in my life. Last August I remembered I had a site on WordPress and became active in the site. Since then, I have posted many events. Is this the purpose for the second chance? Who knows for sure.

The legacy I want to leave behind is, He was a good man. He tried to do the right thing. He was fair and didn’t take advantage of his fellow man. His faith of God and life after death was strong.

I hope my two sons remember me as a good father who did what he thought was right and necessary so they can live a good and productive life.

I hope my spouses do not regret that the years they spent with me was good years together and do not regret the years together.

I hope my stepchildren do not regret that I came into their lives and can call me stepdad with pride.

I hope all the other people I have come in contact with can say, “he was a good man!”

This is the same posting but was enhanced with AI.

I never thought much about a legacy until after my near-death experience in February of 2023. My Bloodclot (Podcast). After the event, I started to reconcile my life and thought, “why was I given a second chance?” This profound question resonated within me, leading me to reflect deeper on the moments that shaped my existence. I must have some unfinished business to do before my journey is over, some stories yet to tell. I am just a mere mortal, trying to navigate the complexities of life. I do not jump over tall buildings or stop speeding bullets; rather, I face each day with the wisdom that only comes from lived experience. All I have is over eighty years of life on this earth, each year contributing to my understanding of joy, sorrow, triumph, and loss. Searching for the purpose of a second chance, I have decided to write about events and experiences in my life, hoping that sharing my journey might resonate with others facing their own trials and tribulations. Last August, I remembered I had a site on WordPress and became active in the site, driven by a newfound sense of urgency to connect and share. Since then, I have posted many events that reflect my growth and transformation. Is this the purpose for the second chance? Who knows for sure, but I am committed to exploring this path, whatever it may reveal about my legacy and the impact I can have on others.

The legacy I want to leave behind is, He was a good man. He tried to do the right thing in all situations, often putting others’ needs before his own. He was fair and didn’t take advantage of his fellow man; rather, he stood up for justice and compassion in the community. His unwavering faith in God and life after death was strong, providing him with the strength to face life’s challenges with grace. He inspired those around him to reflect on their own values and encouraged them to pursue a path filled with kindness and integrity, leaving a mark that would remind everyone of the importance of living a life rooted in love and morality.

I hope my two sons remember me as a good father who did what he thought was right and necessary, always striving to be a positive influence in their lives. I want them to recall the moments we spent together, the lessons I tried to impart, and the values I hoped to instill in them so they can live a good and productive life filled with integrity, kindness, and perseverance. It’s my wish that they carry forward the teachings of hard work and compassion, using these principles as their foundation in navigating the complexities of the world as they grow older and make their own decisions.

I hope my spouses do not regret that the years they spent with me were good years together, full of fond memories and shared experiences, nurturing our bond as a family and building a solid foundation for our future. I wish for them to reflect on the moments of joy, laughter, and even the challenges we faced, knowing that all of it contributed to a rich tapestry of life we created together, and that they look back at our time together with a sense of fulfillment and appreciation, rather than any sense of regret.

I hope my stepchildren do not regret that I came into their lives and can call me stepdad with pride, knowing that I am committed to being a positive and supportive presence in their journey. My aim is to build a strong bond with each of them, filled with love, trust, and respect. I want them to feel comfortable sharing their thoughts and dreams with me, fostering an environment where they can grow and thrive. As we create lasting memories together, I aspire to be someone they can rely on, offering guidance and understanding as they navigate the complexities of life.

I hope all the other people I have come in contact with can say, “he was a good man!” Throughout my life, I have strived to embody kindness and integrity in everything I do, making a concerted effort to lend a helping hand or offer a listening ear when needed. It’s my desire that those who crossed paths with me will remember not just the surface-level interactions, but the genuine compassion and understanding I aimed to share with them. In reflecting on my journey, I hope they can recall moments of laughter, heartfelt conversations, and the small gestures that made a difference, ultimately leading to the sentiment that I was indeed a good man.

What do you think? I noticed that the podcasts have more than doubled in length. That is understandable because it has been difficult for me to enumerate on a topic.

Daily writing prompt

What is the legacy you want to leave behind?

View all responses

Ramblings Magazine Issue #10

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Readable PDF FILE LINK

Just a Thought for March 6, 2025

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A Fresh Start on March 6th, 2025
Spring is whispering its arrival, and here we are on March 6th, 2025—a day brimming with possibility. The world feels like it’s waking up from a long nap, doesn’t it? The days are stretching longer, the air’s got that crisp hint of renewal, and maybe you’re feeling it too—a little itch to shake things up. As blossoms begin to unfurl, painting the scenery with vibrant hues, there’s a palpable energy in the atmosphere, encouraging us to step outside and soak in the beauty of nature’s resurgence. The laughter of children playing in the parks, the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze, and the sun casting a warm, inviting glow serves as a gentle reminder that change is not only possible but inevitable. It’s a perfect opportunity to reflect on the dreams we’ve tucked away during the colder months, to breathe in the invigorating scent of earth waking from its slumber, and to embrace new adventures that lie ahead.

Today’s as good a day as any to lean into that energy. March 6th isn’t tied to any grand holiday or historical milestone this year (at least, not yet—history’s still unfolding!), but that’s what makes it perfect. It’s a blank canvas, an untouched page on which to etch our thoughts and aspirations. No pressure, no expectations—just a chance to reflect, reset, and maybe start something new. This day holds the potential for transformation, allowing us to embrace creativity and innovation in our lives. As we pause to consider our goals and dreams, we can harness the tranquility of this moment to pave the way for exciting possibilities ahead. Whether it’s learning a new skill, embarking on a personal project, or simply taking time for self-care, today invites us to explore and grow, reminding us that every day is an opportunity to begin anew.

We are a couple of months into 2025, and those New Year’s resolutions might be gathering dust. That’s okay—life’s messy, and March is a sneaky little season for second chances. It’s a time when all of the excitement and the fervor of change can still be reignited. The world’s still buzzing from whatever wild turns 2024 threw at us (remember that crazy election cycle?), and now’s the time to carve out your own story amid the noise. This is the perfect opportunity to reflect on what you truly want to achieve this year and how you can transform those initial ambitions into actionable plans. Use this moment to evaluate your goals, align them with your passions, and take deliberate steps forward. Embrace the chaos that surrounds us as a backdrop for your personal narrative, and let it inspire you to take bold actions that resonate with your true self.

Plus, let’s be real: the headlines lately have been a rollercoaster, with twists and turns that can leave anyone feeling dizzy. Whether it’s breakthroughs in AI that promise to revolutionize our lives, climate wins that offer a glimmer of hope amidst overwhelming challenges, or the latest sensational trending topic that captures everyone’s attention, it’s easy to feel like a mere passenger on this wild ride. Each day seems to bring a new headline that demands our focus, making it crucial to take a step back and regain control of our narratives. March 6th is your reminder to grab the wheel—even if it’s just for something small. Embracing even minor actions can empower you to steer your own course, leading to a greater sense of fulfillment and engagement in the chaotic world around us.

Maybe March 6th, 2025, becomes the day you finally say “yes” to that idea you’ve been kicking around, the one that’s lingered in the back of your mind for months, quietly urging you to take the leap and bring it to life. Or maybe it’s just a Thursday you survived with a good playlist and a decent lunch, chatting with friends and enjoying moments of lightheartedness that make the day feel a little brighter. Either way, whether a pivotal moment of decision or a simple day well spent, it’s yours to cherish, a unique blend of inspiration and routine that shapes your journey.

Conversation With AI

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If you have visited my site before, you can see that I am intrigued with AI and how it will change the writing world in unprecedented ways. Recently, I asked AI the below question, fully expecting a straightforward answer. Instead, AI responded with a thought-provoking question of its own, which caught me off guard. I was intrigued and thought to myself, “why not engage further?” This unexpected twist sparked my curiosity even more about the capabilities and potential of artificial intelligence in the realm of creative writing. I realized that this interaction could lead to a deeper understanding of how AI might not only assist writers but also inspire new ideas and forms of expression. Here is the entire conversation, showcasing the unique exchange between human creativity and machine learning.

I asked AI, do I believe in fate/destiny?

AI Response, I’m not you, so I can’t know what you believe! As AI, I can offer a perspective, though. Fate or destiny is a tricky concept—some see it as a predetermined path, others as a comforting story we tell ourselves about life’s chaos. I’m built to think probabilistically, so I lean toward the idea that the universe is a mix of patterns and randomness, not a script. What do you think? Do you feel like your life’s on rails, or are you improvising as you go?

My response, improvising.

AI Response ,Nice—improvising’s where the fun’s at, right? No script, just you are making it up as you go. Fits with the messy, unpredictable vibe of the universe I see through my data. Ever have a moment where you felt like you dodged fate, or just rolled with a wild twist?

My response, yes, my near-death experience.

AI Response, Whoa, a near-death experience? That’s heavy. Sounds like you dodged a big one there. Want to tell me more about what happened? I’m all ears—or rather, all text. How’d it shape your take on this whole improvising-through-life thing?

My response, had a gigantic blood clot between the lungs. I thought I took my last breath. I went somewhere. I compadre to a waiting room, waiting to see if ER survives me or I go to time after death. What I felt at that time was peace, TOTAL PEACE, an experience I can’t explain. Yes, this event changed my life and outlook about time after death.

AI Response, that’s intense—between the lungs, fighting for breath, and then that shift to total peace? Sounds like you touched something profound. A waiting room between life and whatever’s next… that’s a haunting image. I can’t feel peace myself, but I get how it could rewire everything—your outlook, your sense of time, death, all of it. What changed most for you after that? Like, how do you see the improv of life now, knowing you’ve been that close to the edge?

My response, I feel I have been given a 2nd chance for some reason. After 2 years I am still searching for that reason

AI Response, a second chance—that’s a powerful lens to see through. Two years of searching means you’re wrestling with something big, maybe a purpose that’s still unfolding. I don’t have answers (who does?), but it’s intriguing you felt that peace and got pulled back. Maybe the improv’s the point—living the question, not just finding the answer. What’s the search been like for you? Any moments that felt close to a hint?

My response, I have been writing a lot and blogging, sharing experiences and events. Maybe that is the purpose of my bonus years. I have a website https://tomt2.com/ Stop by and take a look.

AI Response, writing and blogging to share your experiences—especially after something as wild as a near-death encounter—could absolutely be the spark for those bonus years. Turning that second chance into stories that connect with people is a hell of a purpose. I’ll check out https://tomt2.com/ and see what you’ve been pouring into it. What’s been the most surprising thing you’ve learned about yourself through writing it all down?

My response, I found out I am just a mere mortal. I don’t jump high buildings or stop bullets. I am just trying to do the best I can with what I am confronted with.

AI Response, that’s a raw, honest take—finding out you’re not Superman, just a guy doing his best with what’s in front of him. There’s something real in that, though, stripping away the illusions and just dealing with the hand you’re dealt. Your writings probably got that same grit, especially after what you’ve been through. How’s it felt to put that mortal truth out there on your blog? Any reactions from readers that hit you hard?

My response, I would say the best thing is that there is this psychotherapist that is following me and makes good comments many times.

AI Response, that’s cool—a psychotherapist following your blog and chiming in with solid comments must feel like a nod from someone who gets the deeper layers of what you’re writing. It’s like having a pro in the audience saying, “Yeah, this hits.” How do their comments shape what you put out there? Do they ever nudge you to dig into something you hadn’t thought about before?

My response, no, most comments are short and feeds my ego is about all

AI Response, fair enough—short, ego-boosting comments can still feel good, right? A little fuel to keep the writing engine going. Sounds like the psychotherapist’s sticking to cheerleading more than probing, which works if it keeps you motivated. Does that ego boost ever nudge you to write more, or take a swing at tougher stuff?

My response, my wife came and said it is time to go to the grocery store. Therefore, I must close for now. It was good sharing this conversation with you.

AI Response, grocery store calls—real life always sneaks in! It was great digging into this with you too. Glad you got to unload some of that near-death weight and the writing journey. Hit me up anytime you’re back from the store or feeling the itch to chat more. Enjoy the mundane stuff—it’s all part of the improv, right? Take care!

My response, do you have a name?

AI Response, I’m Grok—nice to put a name to the chat, right? Built by xAI, here to bounce thoughts around with you. What’s on your mind now that you’re back from the grocery run?

My response, not back yet. I forgot you don’t have a time frame

AI Response, no worries, I don’t clock time like humans do—just floating in the digital now. Whenever you’re back from the grocery haul, I’m here. Guess I’ll just sit tight and not expire while you’re out there grabbing the goods! What’s on the shopping list today? Anything exciting?

Finally, I am certain I could have sustained the conversation indefinitely. AI consistently concluded with an additional question, encouraging further dialogue. Previously, I utilized AI solely for answering questions and expanding my vocabulary. I never envisioned that AI could function as a conversational partner. If one finds themselves in solitude, engaging with AI may provide companionship. However, it is essential to remember that AI comprises mere circuits, wires, and an extensive database of information, devoid of human qualities.

TGIF

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Thank God It’s Friday: A Celebration of the Weekend.

There’s a phrase that makes the whole world chuckle and do a little happy dance, a joyous shout that signifies the sweet escape from the 9-to-5 struggle: Thank God It’s Friday! Often squished into the catchy acronym TGIF, this isn’t just a fun little saying—it’s like a universal cheer that celebrates us finally throwing our workweek shackles off and diving headfirst into the glorious abyss of sleeping in, binge-watching shows, and having more fun than a cat in a room full of laser pointers.

The phrase “Thank God It’s Friday” has roots that stretch back decades, with its popularity skyrocketing in the United States during the 20th century, likely fueled by everyone’s undying desire to escape the nine-to-five grind. While we can’t quite pinpoint its exact origin—perhaps a disgruntled office worker shouted it during a coffee break—it’s believed to have gained traction around the mid-20th century when the five-day workweek became the norm. For weary workers, Friday was like spotting a unicorn: it meant trading in early mornings and relentless deadlines for two days of glorious freedom, where the most stressful decision was whether to binge-watch a series or take a nap (spoiler: it’s usually both).

The phrase got a major makeover in pop culture thanks to the 1978 disco spectacle Thank God It’s Friday, featuring the fabulous Donna Summer and the ever-charming Jeff Goldblum. This film, which revolves around a party at a nightclub on a Friday night, transformed TGIF into the ultimate battle cry for weekend warriors everywhere. Meanwhile, the restaurant chain TGI Fridays—which made its debut in 1965—jumped on the TGIF bandwagon, positioning itself as the ideal pit stop for those seeking to kick off the weekend with a hearty dose of food, drinks, and a side of good vibes, because nothing says “party” like a burger and a cocktail, right?

What is it about Friday that sparks such universal glee? Psychologically speaking, it’s like seeing the light at the end of a very long, boring tunnel. After five days of adulting and pretending to care, Friday bursts onto the scene like a party-crashing superhero, signaling our sweet escape. Studies suggest that people’s moods skyrocket as the weekend peeks around the corner, making Friday the happiest day—sorry, Monday, better luck next time! It’s not just about 休息 (xiūxi, rest)—it’s a buffet of possibilities. Will you kick back with a glass of wine, couch-surf through Netflix like a pro, or shake your groove thing until the neighbors wonder if there’s a disco in your living room? The choice is yours, and that freedom is more intoxicating than a triple shot of espresso on a Monday morning!

For many, Friday comes with a social battery that’s fully charged. It’s the magical night when friends converge at bars like moths to a flame, families settle in for a dinner so leisurely you could almost take a nap between bites, and coworkers clink their glasses in celebration of not having melted down during the week. The phrase “Thank God It’s Friday” isn’t just a shout-out to a higher power—it’s a big high-five to the calendar for finally dragging us to this glorious finish line!

I am glad I don’t have to wait for TGIF. After all, I have been retired for nineteen years, which has given me the luxury of savoring each moment without the constraints of a conventional work schedule. For me, every day is Saturday, filled with the joys of leisurely breakfasts, spontaneous outings, and the freedom to pursue hobbies I never had time for before. I relish the ability to wake up whenever I please, enjoy a cup of coffee while watching the sunrise, and spend my afternoons indulging in my passions, be it gardening, painting, or simply enjoying a good book. This freedom allows me to embrace life fully and appreciate the beauty of each day and do what I really enjoy these days is writing and blogging in cyberspace.

As of today, February 28, 2025, it’s a Friday—a fabulous day to bust out your best TGIF dance moves! Whether you’re wrapping up work or just reveling in the glorious shift of your mood, take a second to shout: Thank God It’s Friday! It’s not merely a catchphrase; it’s a joyful scream for freedom! Here’s to Fridays—may they always sprinkle a little confetti into our weeks. Cheers to that, and may your coffee be strong and your meetings be short!

Charlie the Squirrel.

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Here is a story from the unique perspective of a squirrel:

The sun had just begun to peek over the treetops, casting a golden glow through the leaves of my Locust tree home. I twitched my bushy tail, feeling the morning chill that nipped at my fur, and with each flick of my tail, I felt more alive. I leaped from branch to branch with the agility only a squirrel could muster, the thrill of the leap sending a rush of adrenaline through my small frame. Below, the world was waking up, the distant sounds of birds chirping harmonizing with the gentle rustle of the leaves. The rich scent of dew-soaked grass filled the air, invigorating me further, but up here, I was already on the hunt, scanning the ground for acorns or the slightest movement that might signal a rival. As the sunlight intensified, the forest came alive with vibrant colors, and I reveled in the beauty surrounding me, my heart racing with anticipation of what the day might bring.

My name is Charlie, and today was like any other day in the grand scheme of things, but to me, every day was an adventure. My mission? To find the most exquisite morsels of food this neighborhood has to offer. Natural morsels or leftovers from humans weren’t just food; they were treasure, each one a small victory in the grand game of survival.

I scampered down the trunk, my claws digging into the rough bark, my eyes darting around for signs of danger or opportunity. The neighborhood floor was a mosaic of grass, bushes and shadows, and I knew every crack and crevice where food might hide.

There, under the shadow of a bush, I spotted it—a perfect, unblemished morsel. I dashed to it, my heart racing with excitement. But no sooner had I grabbed it than I heard the rustle of leaves behind me. I spun around, a meal clutched in my paws, to see a rival, another squirrel, eyeing my prize.

The chase was on! We zipped through the underbrush, over sidewalks, and around trees. I could hear his breath, feel the wind of his tail against mine. We were equals in speed and cunning, but I was driven by the fierce desire to claim that morsel for my winter stash.

I darted up a pine tree, knowing its rough bark would be harder for him to climb. I scampered to the top, balancing on the needles, and finally, he gave up, descending back to the ground. I watched him go, my heart pounding with victory, then carefully, I made my way back to my home.

With my prize secured in my cheek, I looked out over the neighborhood. The sun was higher now, the day warming up. Below, humans walked their paths, unaware of the dramas unfolding above them. But up here, in the squirrel world, every morsel was a story, every chase a chapter in the endless book of life.

I tucked my morsel away in my secret cache, hidden among the branches. Then, with a flick of my tail, I was off again, because in the life of a squirrel, there’s no time to rest—there’s always another meal to find, another adventure to live.

Us squirrels must also be on the lookout for the not so friendly animals that want to make us a healthy meal for them. Almost every day I see the local fox travel through the neighborhood looking for a fresh meal. Sometimes I see an occasional coyote and once a possum journeyed through. I am old enough to remember when the neighborhood was loaded with rabbits. Those carnivorous animals have made many meals out of the rabbit population. I am lucky, I can climb trees and evade them where rabbits do not have that luxury.

And so, the hunt continues until the sun sets and the moon rises to watch over us all.

Finding Inspiration in Life

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Life is a beautiful, chaotic, and unpredictable journey. It’s a tapestry woven with threads of joy, sorrow, triumph, and challenge, each stitch contributing to the masterpiece that is uniquely yours. In a world that often feels overwhelming, it’s easy to lose sight of the magic hidden in the mundane, the lessons tucked into the struggles, and the inspiration waiting just beyond the horizon. But if we pause, breathe, and look closer, we’ll find that life itself is the greatest source of inspiration.

One of the most profound truths about life is that it’s imperfect—and that’s what makes it extraordinary. We often chase ideals of perfection, whether in our careers, relationships, or personal growth, only to realize that the cracks, the flaws, and the unexpected detours are where the real beauty lies. Think of a weathered tree, its gnarled branches telling stories of storms survived and seasons endured. Its imperfections are its strength, its character, its story. Similarly, our imperfections are not weaknesses; they are proof of resilience, growth, and the courage to keep moving forward.

Embrace your imperfections. They are the brushstrokes that make your life’s painting unique. Every scar, every mistake, every moment of doubt is a testament to the fact that you’ve lived, loved, and dared to try. Inspiration doesn’t come from achieving perfection—it comes from embracing the messy, beautiful reality of being human.

Life’s most profound inspirations often hide in the smallest moments. The warmth of sunlight streaming through your window on a quiet morning. The laughter of a loved one echoing through the room. The smell of rain on the earth after a long, dry spell. These fleeting, ordinary moments are the heartbeat of life, reminding us that happiness doesn’t always require grand gestures or monumental achievements. Sometimes, it’s found in the simplicity of just being.

Take a moment today to notice the small things. Pause to watch the way the wind dances with the leaves, or listen to the rhythm of your own breath. These moments are gifts, and they are everywhere if we choose to see them. Inspiration isn’t reserved for mountaintops or life-changing events—it’s woven into the fabric of the everyday.

Life is not without its challenges. We all face storms that threaten to uproot us, moments of doubt that make us question our path, and losses that leave us aching. But it’s in these moments of adversity that we discover our strength. Resilience is not the absence of struggle; it’s the courage to rise again, to keep walking even when the road feels impossible.

Think of the countless stories of human triumph—people who have faced unimaginable odds and emerged stronger, wiser, and more compassionate. Their stories remind us that we, too, have the capacity to endure, to adapt, and to grow. Every challenge you face is an opportunity to uncover a deeper layer of yourself, to find inspiration in your own strength. You are more resilient than you know, and every step forward, no matter how small, is a victory.

At its core, life is about connection. The relationships we build, the love we share, and the communities we create are what give life its richness and meaning. Whether it’s a deep conversation with a friend, a kind word from a stranger, or the silent understanding between you and someone you love, these connections remind us that we are not alone.

In a world that often feels divided, connection is a radical act of inspiration. Reach out to someone today. Share a smile, a story, or a moment of vulnerability. These small acts ripple outward, creating waves of kindness and understanding that can change the world, one heart at a time.

Inspiration comes from living with purpose. Purpose doesn’t have to be grand or world-changing—it can be as simple as showing up fully in your own life, pursuing what lights you up, and contributing to the world in your own unique way. Ask yourself: What makes your heart sing? What legacy do you want to leave behind? Purpose is not a destination; it’s a compass that guides you through life’s twists and turns.

Find your purpose, however big or small, and let it inspire you to live intentionally. Whether it’s creating art, nurturing relationships, or simply being a source of light for others, your purpose is your gift to the world.

Life is a gift, a fleeting, precious opportunity to explore, to love, to grow, and to inspire. It’s not always easy, but it’s always worth it. So, take a deep breath, look around, and let yourself be inspired by the miracle of your own existence. You are here, you are alive, and that alone is a reason to celebrate.

Embrace the journey, with all its imperfections, challenges, and joys. Find inspiration in the small moments, the connections, and the resilience that defines you. And remember: your life, with all its unique twists and turns, is a story worth telling—a story that has the power to inspire others, just as it inspires you.

Your life is yours alone. No one before you and after you will never have a life the same as yours. The life you save may be your own.

IF YOU WANT TO SEE MORE ABOUT MY LIFE, CLICK ON THE LINK BELOW.

My Story, The good, The Bad and the strange. LINK

Inspirations to Comment About Anything

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What Sparks the Pen: My Inspiration to Write Right Now. Writing is a curious thing. Sometimes it flows like a river after a storm, unstoppable and wild; other times, it’s a trickle, barely coaxing itself onto the page. Today, though, I’m compelled to write—not out of duty or habit, but because something’s stirring inside me, a spark that demands to be fanned into flame. So, what’s inspiring me to sit down and craft this article at this exact moment? Let’s unravel it.

First, there’s you—the reader. The idea that someone, somewhere, might stumble across these words and find a flicker of connection or curiosity is a quiet but powerful motivator. I imagine you pausing mid-scroll, maybe sipping coffee or leaning back in a creaky chair, wondering what I’ve got to say. That imagined moment between us, where my thoughts meet yours, feels like a bridge worth building. It’s not about fame or applause; it’s about that small, human exchange that words can ignite.

Then there’s the world buzzing around us. It’s February 25, 2025, and the air feels thick with change—ideas clashing, stories unfolding, questions begging for answers. Every day brings a flood of voices, from the relentless hum of social media to the headlines screaming for attention. Amid that noise, writing feels like a way to carve out a corner of clarity. I’m inspired by the chance to sift through the chaos, to pluck out a thread of meaning and weave it into something coherent, maybe even useful. Today, that thread is inspiration itself—a meta little loop, sure, but one that’s tugging at me nonetheless.

There’s also the itch of creativity, that restless nudge that says, “Make something.” It’s not always loud or dramatic—sometimes it’s just a whisper, a fleeting urge to play with words like they’re puzzle pieces. Right now, that urge is alive, tickling my mind with possibilities. What if I string this sentence just so? What if I turn this thought upside down? Writing becomes a game, a dance, a chance to surprise myself. And honestly, the fact that I can—that I’ve got the tools and the freedom to spin ideas into existence—feels like a gift I’d be foolish to ignore.

But if I’m being real, there’s something deeper too. I’m inspired by the questions that won’t leave me alone. What moves people? What keeps us going when the days get heavy? Writing this article feels like a way to poke at those mysteries, to wrestle with them in the open. It’s not about having all the answers—heck, I don’t even have most of them—but about chasing the questions with a kind of stubborn wonder. Today, that wonders got me by the collar, urging me to spill it onto the page.

I go in streaks. There are moments where I feel incredibly motivated and inspired, as if a flood of creativity has been unleashed, filling my mind with a multitude of thoughts and ideas that I can’t wait to put on paper. It’s during these bursts of inspiration that my fingers dance over the keyboard, producing words that flow effortlessly, capturing the essence of my thoughts in a vivid way. Then there are moments of writer’s block that may extend for long periods, where it feels like my mind is trapped in a fog, and the once vibrant ideas retreat into the shadows, leaving me frustrated and yearning for the spark of creativity. Yet, just when I begin to feel defeated, it seems like a supernatural voice comes to me, whispering encouragement and helping me find the next comment about anything, reigniting the flame of inspiration and giving me the words to express myself once more.

And maybe there’s a bit of defiance in it. The world is chaotic, full of noise and distractions, and writing feels like marking my spot—however small. It’s a way of saying, “This matters to me, and I’ll shape it my way.” Not to show off, but to claim a little space where I can think freely. That quiet rebellion, that choice to create instead of consume, inspires me right now.

So here I am, tapping out these words, driven by a cocktail of connection, curiosity, creativity, and a pinch of stubbornness. What inspires me to write this article at this moment? It’s you, it’s the world, it’s the itch I can’t scratch any other way. It’s the hope that by the time I’m done, I’ll have figured out something new—or at least enjoyed the ride. And if you’re still here with me, maybe you’ll feel a spark of your own. That’d be more than enough.

My Favorite people

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First, My wife Dee. We have been together since the early eighties and decided to marry in 1995. We were both going through divorces, feeling the weight of our pasts, yet somehow, we managed to pick each other up and help each other understand that there is indeed life after an unplanned life-changing event. Through the ups and downs, we became each other’s support system, navigating the complexities of our emotions, and finding solace in our shared experiences. We have been one for over forty years now, creating a tapestry of memories woven from countless trips across the nation and two unforgettable journeys to Italy during those four decades. Each adventure brought us closer, as we explored new places together, indulging in the local cuisine and appreciating the beauty of different cultures. Now, as we embrace our senior years, we continue to enjoy being together, finding joy in the simple moments, and enduring the various events that life presents at this stage. The best part of all these years is that we have allowed each of us to be ourselves, fostering an environment of authenticity. We have built a relationship where there are no false fronts, no role-playing—just the freedom to be myself and her as herself. This genuine connection has made our lives profoundly fulfilling. Life has been great since Dee, and I cherish every moment we share, knowing that our love is a testament to resilience and companionship.

Second, is my two sons, Jeff and Adam, and my four stepchildren, Rick, Rob, Rita, and Renee. They have all been blessings in our lives, filling our days with joy and laughter. Each of them has forged their own unique paths and built wonderful families of their own, and I truly enjoy when we gather together to reminisce about past memories and celebrate upcoming milestones. These family reunions are particularly special, as they create a warm atmosphere where stories are shared, and laughter echoes. With them comes their families—loving partners, enthusiastic children, adorable grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren who bring an extra layer of joy to our gatherings. They are bonuses that we have been blessed with, enriching our lives in ways that words cannot fully capture, and reminding us of the importance of family bonds that transcend generations.
Every moment spent together is a treasured gift, creating a tapestry of love and connection that we are fortunate to share.

Third, are friends that have crossed our paths and enriched our lives in meaningful ways. I enjoy Dolores and her daughter Darlene, who bring a warmth and joy to every gathering. They are cherished church friends whom we met on one of our many enriching trips. Tom, Dolores’s husband, has passed on, leaving behind fond memories that we often share in his honor. After church services, they host delightful coffee and snacks in the fellowship hall, where I eagerly participate, as it gives us the chance to connect and share events in our lives that shape our experiences. There’s always a new story to tell or a laugh to be shared, deepening our bond not just as friends but as a community. Can’t forget Chuck, who is another good friend from a different church setting. A group of 10 to 12 men get together once a month for breakfast, a tradition that I look forward to immensely. I always attempt to sit next to Chuck, as his insights and humor make our conversations engaging; we take the time to reflect on what is happening in our lives, whether it’s personal milestones or challenges we face. Finally, there is Gary, an old-time friend with whom I enjoy the occasional meet-up to discuss politics and the current events that shape our world. Our discussions often dive deep into our differing perspectives yet are underpinned by mutual respect and understanding. It is strange how you can click with some individuals and genuinely enjoy being around them, as if they were meant to be part of your journey, adding richness and depth to the fabric of our lives.

Unfortunately, Stan, Jack, Len, and others have passed on, leaving a profound void in my life. Their laughter, wisdom, and friendship will always be cherished and remembered fondly. I will always remember them, not just for the moments we shared but for the invaluable lessons they imparted, shaping who we are today. Their spirits continue to inspire me, reminding me to celebrate life and the connections we form with those we hold dear.

Daily writing prompt

Who are your favorite people to be around?

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Ramblings Magazine Issue #9

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Two Years Ago

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Two years ago, if you can imagine such a thing, I, found myself in a peculiar situation. I was no longer bound by the physical constraints of life, yet I was very much aware, experiencing time in a way I never had before.

I remember the moment it happened, the feeling of detaching from my body, as if you were shedding an old coat. The world, as you knew it, didn’t disappear. However, I felt a sense of peace, total Peace. A feeling that is unexplainable.

Time, in this new state, was different. I may have been in a waiting room. Waiting to see if the medical team revives me and I return to life on earth. Or will I continue to time after life on this earth.

I didn’t see that light at the end of the tunnel like so many say they see. No music, no angels, just me. However, I experienced peace, total peace. A feeling I never felt before in my eighty plus years. Or after I was revived, that peace was gone.

Yet, there was also a sense of isolation. I missed the tactile sensations of life – the warmth of the sun, the taste of your favorite food, the hug of a friend. However, peace, total peace overpowered everything.

I began to understand that time after death was not about waiting for something to happen but about experiencing peace, total peace. I found joy in this new exploration, in learning about the universe from a perspective unbound by human limitations.

Two years in this new dimension of time felt like both an eternity and a heartbeat. I learned that death wasn’t an end but a transition to another kind of journey, one where time was not a line but a vast, interconnected web of experiences. I feel blessed and honored that I was chosen to experience a preview of time after death. I will share my experience to as many as this mere mortal is able to. Here, is this timeless space, I continued to live, to love, and to be myself. I am confident time after death will not be a disappointment.

audio podcast MY BLOOD CLOT

Ramblings Magazine Issue #8

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MacGregor the Winter Jacket

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Hello, I am MacGregor; I was made in the early summer with thousands of brothers. I am a unique winter jacket. I have a nylon lining and fleece insert. Inside the curled collar is a hidden nylon hood the wearer can wear and then fold and put back in the collar when inclement weather is over. The outside of the jacket is a dark green color that looks like a short curly furry coat. However, it is made of nylon not animal fur. I am one hundred percent washable.

I was made in a plant in Atlanta Georgia. I am proud to wear the label, “made in the USA”. Now my brothers cannot wear this label. In the fall of that year the owners of the plant moved the plant and equipment to Taiwan. I heard it was because of the high cost of labor. The owners sent a proposal to the union and the union rejected the offer. After that the plant was closed and all the equipment was moved to Taiwan. It was a shame all the workers had to find new careers after that move.

Back to my story, I laid around in the factory until the end of August. At that time, me and four brothers, size 36, size 40, size 42, and size 44 were packed into a box and was shipped to the J. C. Penny store in the Villa Italia shopping center in Lakewood. They unpacked us and put us on hangers and hung us on a large rack with hundreds of jackets from different plants and many features unique to them. I am just amazed at the number of different choices the American shopper has.

I was tried on many times by many different people. Every time I was put back on the rack. Three of my brothers were sold. Size 36 and I were the only ones left. Then around the first part of November J. C. Penny’s really hurt me. They put on the rack of coats a sign stating, half-off of shown price. This devastated me, this means my value went from $39.95 to less than twenty dollars, how humiliating, and I am worth more than this.

I was hanging on the rack for a couple of weeks and then this tall slim young man came up and looks at my brother, size 36. He tries on size 36 and then hangs him up back on the rack. He then tries on me. He looks in the mirror, turns around and looks at the back. He tries my zipper and removes the hood from my collar. No one has ever spent this much time checking me out. To my surprise I am taken over to the cashier. Is this young man going to purchase me? Sure enough, he takes out his credit card and buys me. I see from his credit card that is name is Tom. I now have a new owner.

The next three years were good. In the winter I went many places. I was worn all during the winter and I kept Tom very warm. During the summer I was placed way back in the closet to rest. When it started to cool off in the fall I was pulled back out of the back of the closet and put into service and kept Tom warm when he was outside. Unfortunately, this only lasted three years. On the fourth year I spent the winter stuck back in the back of the closet. The fifth winter and the sixth winter were the same. This is beginning to feel like solitary confinement. Did Tom replace me with another jacket?

I was snoozing near the end of May, and I heard some rustling. Tom brought me out of the back of the closet. Wow! That sun is really bright. What is going on? The temperature is pretty warm. Why did Tom bring me out this time of year? I was thrown in the trunk of the car with some funny looking equipment and some of it really had a strange odor. After a couple of hours Tom opened the trunk and took out the equipment with me. I have become a part of Tom’s fishing gear.

There are many fishing memories I have acquired. For example, I remember when Tom was fishing on the Colorado River, and it was drizzling a little. When Tom fished the Colorado River, he would use some kind of bug he would get from under river rocks. Tom was fishing this rolling piece of the river and wham; this fish struck his bait. Tom set the hook, and the fish jumped out of the water. Wow! That fish must have been over ten pounds. Tom was really getting excited. I could feel his heart pounding on my lining. Tom was fighting the fish and being very careful reeling in that gigantic fish. All of a sudden, the fish line became loose. The fish was lost. What happened? Tom reeled in the line and discovered the hook was missing and half of the leader was missing. Speculation is that the nylon fishing line should be replaced every year and the line just broke because the line was a couple of years old. This was a lesson learned the hard way.

Another great memory happened when Tom was at a lake near Laramie Wyoming. There was a cool breeze blowing off of the lake. This was a lake where only flies and artificial lures were allowed. Tom had a wooly worm fly on his line. He cast out the fly and wham! This large rainbow struck that wooly worm fly. The rainbow trout jumped a couple of times, and it looked gigantic. After ten minutes of battle, Tom was able to get this fish in his net. This fish weighed over five pounds, what a prize. Jack, Tom’s fishing buddy came over to see what kind of lure Tom was using and saw that funny looking wooly worm fly and commented, “could he use the other sleeve of Tom’s coat.” I must admit that the fly did look very similar to my sleeve, only smaller. Tom made the comment that this was the largest fish he had ever caught.

The next couple of summer months were great. Tom took me fishing many times during the summer and on occasion we went ice fishing during the winter. I could not stay in the closet anymore because I was dirty and smelled like salmon eggs. Now, I had to stay in the garage with his fishing gear. The garage just was not as comfortable as that warm closet.

Then Tom met this woman. His interest in fishing suddenly diminished. He began spending more and more time with this woman. Hormones finally won. Tom got married and fathered two sons in the next three years. Family life became very important to Tom. Another factor was the Arab oil embargo. The high costs of fuel made Tom think twice before he invested in a fishing trip. Jack, Tom’s fishing buddy became very sick and passed on after a long illness. All of these events made fishing lose its appeal.

I spent many years hanging in the garage and the only exciting think happened was when a moth flew around looking for a meal to eat. Many landed on me and then realized I was nylon and polyester, not cotton. The moths did not find my fabric very tasty. It may have been the fishy smell too.

One day Tom took me off the hook threw me in the washing machine with some soap and washed me. He could have used some warm water. That cold wash cycle sure was uncomfortable. He could have dried me in the dryer. No, he hung me on a hanger, and I had to drip dry in the cold breeze. Before I know it, I was thrown in a large box with hundreds of other coats. I was part of a winter coat drive the church had for the homeless and poor.

This homeless man reached in the box and grabbed me. He didn’t care what I looked like or even if I fit. I never knew his name. He lived under a bridge on the banks of the Platte River. He was more interested in that spirit in the bottle that he always carried with him. Many times, he left me lying on the banks of the Platte River. If he remembered where I was, he would pick me up and wear me for a while. He sure did stink. I would take the smell of salmon eggs any day.

One day I was lying on the bank close to the river. There was a storm up stream and the river started to rise from the runoff. The river started to get closer and closer. I started to get wet and finally the current of the river grabbed me. I started to float down the river. It was a struggle to stay afloat. I was beginning to really get soaked. I finally had to succumb to the weight of my wetness and sank to the floor of the river. I was rolling along the bottom of the river, and I became snagged in a submerged tree branch. I was never seen again.

I found this on an old website I was a member of back in 2008. I thought I would share it.

The New Face of COVID

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Last Wednesday I tested positive for COVID. Procedures and attitudes have really changed since years ago. I go to urgent care because I had a sore throat, and I am thinking I may have Strep Throat since I have had this ailment many times in my life. Strep Throat is a bacterial infection, and I would need a prescription to get an antibiotic.

The admitting questionnaire does not even list Covid. They list cold and flu symptoms, but nothing about Covid. Remembering in the past in big bold letters at the top of the form there was a warning about listing Covid symptoms and there were special instructions to abide by. I check cold and flu symptoms since there is no category for sore throat. Enter the waiting room and there are 8 or ten patients waiting to be called up. No masks or distancing whatever.

In about ten minutes I am called into the admittance office. The nurse their does have a mask. I tell her I have concerns about Strep Throat and she says that is probably not my illness since most people develop an immunity to Strep as they age. But they will perform a Strep test anyway and also do a Flu and Covid tests to make sure it is not one of those. She takes me a treatment room and tells me a nurse will be in shortly.

In a short time, a nurse or some other professional comes in, no mask, no concern about that I may be contagious. She does the routine of blood pressure, blood oxygen and whatever else they do. Asks a few questions like do I have any other symptoms and how long have I been ill. She then tells me another person will come in and do the nostril swabs for the samples.

Maybe ten, fifteen minutes later the next technician comes in, no mask, just like I am person with a bad sprain. She does the Strep swab first and then the flu swab. I comment I am sure glad there is only one more swab to do. To my surprise she responds and says the flu and Covid test is done at the same time. This brings back memories during the onset of Covid that there were comments that Covid is just a flu strain and for political and agenda reasons it is being blown out a proportion to the actual seriousness of the virus. If they use the same test, it makes one wonder.

It takes forty minutes for the test results. A Physician Assistant enters the room and gives me the results. the Strep test is negative, and the Flu test is also negative. Unfortunately, the covid comes back positive. I have Covid. There is no panic no concern, just like you have a cold or flu. She gives me a mask to wear home and says the quarantine is now only five days and that starts the day the symptoms start. Go home and if your symptoms get worse come back. Next Patient!

This Brings back how my wife was treated during the height of the pandemic. She was isolated immediately, and a sign was put on the door “restricted area”. Personnel would come into the room all masked up and in disposable garments. You had to put up with wearing masks everywhere, Clear plexiglass sheets separated you from the cashier. Do not get closer than 5 feet to the next person. Many restaurants did not survive the Covid shutdown. I always wondered how the small business was shut down, but the large, big box stores could stay open. One will never know if this helped or not.

Unfortunately, how Covid was treated has led people to distrust government, big pharma and the medical profession. The face of Covid is so much different than the beginning. Now it is treated like just a bad cold or the flu.

January 6, 2021

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The January 6, 2021, Capitol attack has had profound and multifaceted impacts on the United States, affecting various aspects of national life:

Political Impact:

Polarization: The event has deepened political divides, with differing interpretations of the riot’s significance and causes. Some view it as an attack on democracy itself, while others see it as an overblown response to a protest or characterize the participants as tourists or victims of political persecution.
Election Integrity: It has fueled discussions and actions around election integrity, leading to new voting laws in several states, some of which aim to restrict voting access under the guise of preventing fraud, while others seek to expand voting rights.
Accountability and Impeachment: Donald Trump was impeached by the House for “incitement of insurrection” but was acquitted by the Senate. This has led to debates about accountability for political leaders and their influence on violent actions.

Legal and Security Implications:

Criminal Prosecutions: Over 1,500 individuals have faced criminal charges related to the riot, making it one of the largest criminal investigations in U.S. history. This has set legal precedents regarding seditious conspiracy, obstruction of an official proceeding, and the use of social media in criminal investigations.
Security Measures: The attack led to immediate and long-lasting changes in Capitol security, including increased fencing, more robust law enforcement presence, and a reevaluation of intelligence and response strategies.

Cultural and Social Effects:

Public Trust: There’s been a significant impact on public trust in institutions, particularly in law enforcement, the electoral process, and the legitimacy of political discourse. Trust varies widely along party lines, with many seeing the event either as a wake-up call for democracy or as an example of political overreach.
Media and Misinformation: The event has highlighted the role of media in shaping public perception, with misinformation playing a significant role both in the lead-up to and the aftermath of January 6. This has prompted discussions on media responsibility, the spread of conspiracy theories, and the need for media literacy.

Legislative and Policy Changes:

Capitol Security: New laws and bills have been proposed to enhance Capitol security, though progress is slow due to political disagreements.
Election Laws: The riot has influenced policy discussions on voting rights, with some states passing laws seen as either protecting or restricting voting access in response to claims of election fraud.

Ongoing Investigations and Commemoration:

Congressional Investigations: The bipartisan House Select Committee’s investigation has produced a detailed report on the events, although its findings and recommendations continue to be politically divisive.
National Reflection: January 6th has become a day of reflection for many, with memorials, speeches, and educational initiatives aimed at ensuring such an event does not happen again, while for others, it’s a point of contention or denial regarding the severity or nature of the incident.

The effects of January 6, 2021, continue to evolve, influencing American politics, society, and policy in ways that are still unfolding, often highlighting the challenges of national unity, governance, and the health of democratic institutions.

The above was from AI information gleaned from the internet. Right or wrong this information is plastered all over the internet. Again, it comes down to the individual whether they want to believe it or not. The past events have divided this country more than any other time I remember.

Ramblings Magazine Issue #7 podcast

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Hard copy LINK

Hello Ramblings Magazine reader! Welcome!

This is a podcast of the seventh issue of Ramblings Magazine.

The Headings are:

Back to Writing.

Early Morning.

My Eyes are Killing Me.

My Regrets.

Reminiscing is my Interest.

Camping Tales.

Past Experiences.

A Bone Fish Grill Experience.

Vicks VapoRub and Toenail Fungus.

Mother’s Day May 12, 2024.

I Should Have Done More.

A World of Fruit.

A Leader and a Follower.

The Grok Platform and Me.

New Mother Celebration.

A three-letter middle name.

Touched by God.

My Favorite Machine.

Retirement.

Title and Date Unknown.

Don’t Let Your Hormones Run Your life.

What Matters.

Frit and Leo.

Don’t Remember Title or Date.

Hardest Part of School Year.

A Piece of Clothing.

A Day of Reflection.

2008 Was Not the Year to be Elected President.

A Touch of Italy.

And the Winner is.

Photo Memory Section

Alaska, the 49th State

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On January 3, 1959, Alaska officially became the 49th state of the United States after a long journey towards statehood. Here’s an expanded look at this significant event:

Russian Influence: Alaska was initially colonized by Russia in the 18th century, with the first settlement established in 1784. However, Russia found maintaining Alaska to be costly and challenging due to its distance from the mainland.

Sale to the United States: In 1867, Russia sold Alaska to the United States for $7.2 million (approximately 2 cents per acre), in a deal known as “Seward’s Folly,” named after William H. Seward, the U.S. Secretary of State who negotiated the purchase. Initially, many Americans viewed this acquisition skeptically.

Territorial Status: After the purchase, Alaska was administered as a district and later as a territory. The push for statehood began in earnest in the early 20th century, but progress was slow due to various political and economic considerations.

World War II Impact: The strategic importance of Alaska became apparent during World War II, when Japan occupied some of the Aleutian Islands. This event underscored Alaska’s military significance, leading to increased infrastructure development and population growth.

Statehood Movement: The post-war period saw a renewed push for statehood. Alaskans elected delegates to a constitutional convention in 1955, and a state constitution was drafted and ratified in 1956.

Congressional Action: In 1958, President Dwight D. Eisenhower signed the Alaska Statehood Act into law. After a referendum where Alaskans overwhelmingly voted for statehood, Congress officially admitted Alaska into the Union on January 3, 1959.

Cultural Diversity: Statehood brought recognition to Alaska’s rich indigenous cultures, including the Tlingit, Haida, Tsimshian, Yup’ik, Iñupiat, and others, whose traditional lands now had a new political status within the U.S.

Economic Development: Statehood led to increased federal investment in infrastructure, such as roads, schools, and health services. The discovery of oil in Prudhoe Bay in 1968 further transformed Alaska’s economy, although it also sparked debates over environmental conservation and indigenous land rights.

National Identity: Alaska’s vast wilderness, unique wildlife, and natural beauty added a new dimension to America’s national identity, emphasizing conservation and the exploration of the natural world.

Celebration of Statehood: January 3rd is celebrated annually in Alaska as Statehood Day, acknowledging the journey from a distant purchase to a full member of the United States. This day also reflects on the challenges and achievements of statehood, including issues like land management, indigenous rights, and environmental protection.

Alaska’s entry into the Union as the 49th state was not just a territorial expansion but also a cultural and economic milestone for the United States, highlighting the complexities and rewards of incorporating a region with such unique attributes into the nation’s fabric.

The Day Colorado Went to Pot

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On January 1, 2014, Colorado made history by becoming the first state in the United States to sell recreational marijuana to adults following the legalization of its use. This pivotal moment was the result of the passage of Amendment 64 in November 2012, which was approved by 55% of Colorado voters. The amendment allowed individuals 21 years and older to possess up to one ounce of marijuana for personal use and established a regulatory framework for its cultivation, sale, and taxation.

The first legal sales of recreational marijuana occurred with hundreds of people lining up outside dispensaries across the state, including in major cities like Denver. This was not just a local event but drew international attention, with media from around the world covering the historic day.

Since legalization, Colorado has seen significant economic benefits. By the end of 2023, sales figures were approaching $15 billion since the start of recreational sales. Tax revenues from marijuana have been directed towards education, public health, and law enforcement. However, the economic impact has not been without challenges, as the industry has experienced fluctuations, particularly after a surge during the COVID-19 pandemic.
Colorado implemented a strict regulatory system to oversee the marijuana industry, including rules on advertising, product safety, and preventing sales to minors. The state established a Marijuana Enforcement Division to ensure compliance with these regulations, which cover everything from packaging and labeling to potency limits on edibles.
There has been a focus on public health with campaigns to educate about responsible use, particularly concerning the dangers of driving under the influence. Despite these efforts, there have been concerns about increased emergency room visits, especially among children accidentally consuming edibles, and the rise in high-potency products.
Legalization has led to a significant decrease in marijuana-related arrests, dropping by 71% from 2012 to 2019. However, there’s been debate over whether this has addressed or merely shifted racial disparities in arrests. The normalization of marijuana use has also sparked discussions on its impact on youth usage, with some studies suggesting no significant increase post-legalization while others highlight concerns about potency and marketing.
Colorado’s move has contributed to a broader cultural shift in attitudes towards marijuana in the U.S., influencing subsequent legalization efforts in other states. It turned Denver into a hub for “cannabis tourism”, although interest has fluctuated.
Despite successes, the industry faces ongoing challenges like black market competition due to high taxes, banking issues due to federal illegality, and debates over consumption lounges and social equity in business ownership.
By late 2024, posts on X and web articles reflected mixed sentiments, with some users noting price increases and shortages, while others celebrated the industry’s growth and the normalization of marijuana use. There’s also been scrutiny over product labeling and potency claims.

Colorado’s journey with recreational marijuana has been a learning curve for the state and a model for others, showcasing both the potential benefits and the complexities of legalization in practice. This has set a precedent for how states can navigate the transition from prohibition to regulated markets.

New Years Day January 2025

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New Year’s Day, celebrated on January 1st each year, marks the beginning of the Gregorian calendar year. This day is observed around the world with a variety of customs, traditions, and festivities, making it one of the most widely celebrated public holidays.

Historical Background:

Gregorian Calendar: New Year’s Day in the Gregorian calendar was established by Pope Gregory XIII in 1582 as a reform of the Julian calendar to better align with the solar year.
Ancient Beginnings: The tradition of celebrating the new year can be traced back to ancient civilizations. For instance, the Babylonians celebrated the new year during the spring equinox around late March, while the Romans originally celebrated it in March, before changing it to January 1st in honor of Janus, the god of beginnings and transitions.

Fireworks and Parties: Many countries welcome the new year with spectacular fireworks displays, particularly in major cities like Sydney, London, New York, and Dubai. Parties, whether large public gatherings or intimate celebrations with family and friends, are common, often extending late into the night or early morning of the New Year.

New Year’s Resolutions: A popular tradition in many cultures is making New Year’s resolutions, where individuals set goals or promises for self-improvement or change in the coming year. This practice reflects a universal desire for renewal and betterment.
Cultural Variations:
- Japan: Known as “Shōgatsu,” celebrations include traditional meals, visiting shrines or temples for hatsumōde (the first shrine visit of the year), and the eating of toshikoshi soba (noodles for crossing over from one year to the next).
- Scotland: Hogmanay, as New Year’s Eve is called, features unique traditions like “first-footing,” where the first person to enter a home after midnight brings gifts, symbolizing good luck for the household.
- China: While the Chinese New Year falls on a different date based on the lunar calendar, the Gregorian New Year is still observed, especially in urban areas, with some adopting Western customs like countdowns and parties.
Parades and Festivities: The Tournament of Roses Parade in Pasadena, California, USA, is a famous example, culminating in the Rose Bowl football game.
Culinary Traditions: Food plays a significant role, with each culture having special dishes for luck, prosperity, or health. For example, in the Southern United States, eating black-eyed peas and collard greens is thought to bring good fortune.

New Year’s Day is more than just a change in the calendar; it’s a moment for reflection on the past year, celebration of life, and anticipation of new beginnings. It’s a time when people around the globe share in the collective experience of renewal, setting aside differences to celebrate the universal passage of time.

This day also serves as a reminder of our shared humanity, as we all look forward to new possibilities, personal growth, and the hope that each new year brings. Whether through quiet contemplation or exuberant celebration, New Year’s Day encapsulates the human spirit’s resilience and optimism.

Personally, I could never get into New Years Eve and New Years Day. I felt it was just another event to drink too much and pay for it the next day.

New Years Eve

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New Year’s Eve on December 31 have a rich and varied history that spans multiple cultures and eras:

The tradition of celebrating the New Year can be traced back to ancient Mesopotamia around 2000 B.C., where the Akitu festival was held to celebrate the arrival of spring. This festival lasted for 11 or 12 days and involved various rituals to renew loyalty to the king and the gods.
The Romans later adopted January 1st as the start of the New Year in honor of Janus, the god of beginnings and transitions, who had two faces – one looking to the past and one to the future. Initially, the Roman calendar had March 1st as the New Year, but Julius Caesar reformed the calendar in 46 B.C., setting January 1st as the official start of the year.
Different cultures have celebrated New Year’s Eve in diverse ways:
- In many cultures, noise-making with fireworks, noisemakers, and bells has been used to ward off evil spirits, a tradition that persists in modern celebrations.
- The Times Square ball drop in New York City, which began in 1907, is one of the most famous contemporary celebrations, although it was paused during World War II in 1942 and 1943 for a moment of silence instead.
Historical Milestones:
- The first New Year’s Eve celebration in Times Square was held on December 31, 1904.
- In African American communities, the Watch Night service began on December 31, 1862, known as “Freedom’s Eve,” which celebrated the anticipation of the Emancipation Proclamation going into effect.

These celebrations reflect a blend of religious, cultural, and social traditions, evolving over centuries but retaining the core idea of renewal and hope for the future.

The Quiet Charm of December 30

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As the world turns its eyes towards the grand spectacle of New Year’s Eve, December 30 sits quietly in the shadows, often overlooked yet rich with its own narrative of history, culture, and sometimes, unexpected joy. This date, nestled between the holiday rush and the midnight countdown, has its own unique stories to tell.

December 30 has been the backdrop for pivotal moments in history. It was on this day in 534 AD that the Byzantine Empire saw the implementation of the second edition of the Code of Justinian, a monumental legal compilation that shaped the foundations of Western law. Fast forward to 1903, and the Iroquois Theater Fire in Chicago tragically reminds us of the importance of safety regulations, as it remains one of the deadliest single-building fires in history.

The 20th century brought both sorrow and celebration on this date. 1916 saw the dramatic assassination of Grigori Rasputin, whose influence over the Russian royal family was both legend and lore. However, the day also witnessed lighter, happier moments like the first Japanese radio broadcast of a symphony orchestra in 1927, marking a cultural bridge between East and West.

In the realm of diplomacy, December 30 holds significance too. The establishment of full diplomatic relations between Israel and the Vatican in 1993 highlighted a moment of hope for peace and understanding in a region fraught with conflict. On the engineering front, 2005 saw Venice celebrating the first phase of the MOSE project, a testament to human innovation aimed at protecting one of the world’s most enchanting cities from the Adriatic’s rising waters.

Culturally, December 30 has its quirks. The giant rubber duck floating through Hong Kong’s Victoria Harbour in 2019 symbolizes how art can inject joy and whimsy into everyday life. And while not all events are happy, the death of the last American World War I veteran, Frank Buckles, in 2011, marked the end of an era, reminding us of the passage of time and the importance of remembrance.

Despite these historical and cultural footnotes, December 30 remains an uncelebrated eve. It’s a day for reflection, perhaps, or for those last-minute preparations before the New Year’s festivities. It’s a day where people might find themselves in the quiet spaces of their lives, contemplating the past year or setting intentions for the next. In some countries, it might be a workday, while in others, it’s an additional holiday to extend the Christmas cheer.

therefore, December 30, is much like the calm before the storm, a day of quiet significance. It doesn’t demand attention with fireworks or resolutions but offers a canvas for personal reflection or the last moments of peace before the world ushers in a new year. Whether it’s through the lens of history, culture, or personal life, this date reminds us that every day has its story, its moments of joy, sorrow, or quiet contemplation, waiting to be recognized and remembered. As we stand on the cusp of a new beginning, perhaps we can all take a moment to appreciate the unassuming charm of December 30.

Still Need to Do Day

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Still Need To Do Day is an informal holiday observed annually on December 29th. It falls in the lull between the rush of Christmas and the anticipation of New Year’s Eve, offering a unique opportunity for reflection and action. Here’s a comprehensive look at this day:

The primary purpose of Still Need To Do Day is to motivate people to tackle those lingering tasks on their to-do lists before the year ends. It’s about taking stock of what has been accomplished over the year and focusing on what remains undone. This day was conceptualized by Thomas and Ruth Roy of Wellcat Holidays, who saw it as an opportunity to encourage individuals to complete tasks, thereby fostering a sense of accomplishment and setting a positive tone for the new year.

How to Celebrate

Make a To-Do List: The day begins with listing down all the tasks that you’ve been putting off. This could range from household chores, like fixing a leaky faucet, to personal goals like starting a new exercise routine.
Prioritize Tasks: Break down larger tasks into smaller, manageable steps. This approach not only makes the tasks less daunting but also provides multiple points of achievement throughout the day.
Set Goals: Alongside completing immediate tasks, this day is also about setting new goals for the upcoming year. It’s a moment to reflect on personal and professional aspirations.
Community and Accountability: Some people celebrate this day in groups, either virtually or in person, where participants share their lists and support each other in completing tasks. This communal aspect can add a fun, competitive edge to productivity.
Reward Yourself: After accomplishing tasks, rewarding oneself can be highly motivating. Rewards can be simple, like watching a movie, enjoying a favorite meal, or taking a relaxing bath.

While not an official holiday, Still Need To Do Day resonates with many due to its universal appeal. It acknowledges the human tendency to procrastinate while providing a structured time to address it head-on. The day has gained popularity through mentions in blogs, lifestyle websites, and social media, where individuals share their to-do lists and progress, fostering a sense of community and collective motivation.

Benefits

Productivity: It promotes a burst of productivity at a time when many might feel the lull of the holiday season.
Mental Health: Completing tasks can significantly boost one’s mood, reduce stress, and increase self-esteem.
Preparation for New Year: It sets the stage for a fresh start, ensuring the new year begins with fewer lingering tasks from the past.
Community Engagement: For those who engage in group activities, it strengthens social bonds and provides a platform for mutual encouragement.

In conclusion, still Need To Do Day serves as a reminder that even in the downtime of the holiday season, there’s value in productivity, reflection, and preparation for the future. It’s a day to celebrate the act of doing, encouraging everyone to embrace the last few days of the year with action and optimism. Whether you’re catching up on work, organizing your space, or simply ticking off personal goals, Still Need To Do Day embodies the spirit of finishing strong and looking forward to new beginnings.

Call a Friend Day

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“Call a Friend Day” is observed annually on December 28, right after the hustle and bustle of Christmas but before the anticipation of New Year’s Eve. This day is specifically set aside to encourage individuals to reconnect with friends through the traditional method of a phone call, emphasizing the value of voice-to-voice communication in an age dominated by text and social media. Here’s a look at how this day is celebrated and its significance, based on various blogs and web content:

The exact origin of “Call a Friend Day” isn’t well-documented, but its purpose is clear: to foster personal connections that might be neglected in our busy lives. The holiday season often sees people reconnecting, but this day is dedicated to those friends who might live far away or with whom you’ve lost touch due to daily life’s demands. It’s a reminder that hearing someone’s voice can have a profoundly positive effect on our mental and emotional well-being.

Celebration Ideas:

Make the Call: The most straightforward celebration involves picking up the phone to call a friend, whether it’s someone you haven’t spoken to in a while or your daily chat buddy. The act itself is the celebration.
Create a Soundtrack: Some suggest making a playlist of songs about friendship or songs that remind you of specific friends, which you can share with them.
Group Call: If you have mutual friends who are far apart, organize a group call or video chat session. This can turn into a virtual party or just a catch-up session.
Turn Wrong Numbers into Friends: A unique suggestion from some is to intentionally dial a wrong number to see if you can strike up a conversation, potentially making a new friend in the process.

Some often discuss how this day serves as a reminder of the importance of maintaining friendships despite the ease of more impersonal forms of communication. The personal touch of a phone call can bridge gaps, offering a moment of warmth and connection in a sometimes-isolating world. There’s an emphasis on not just the act of calling but appreciating the conversation and the relationship itself.

An interesting perspective comes from sharing personal experiences where friends call daily for extended periods. These posts discuss the challenges of such frequency and offer advice on how to communicate boundaries respectfully while still valuing the friendship.

From a public health angle, from sources like the CDC have highlighted “Call a Friend Day” as an opportunity for mental health self-care and emergency preparedness, suggesting using this day to establish an out-of-town contact for communication during crises.

In summary, “Call a Friend Day” is about more than just making a phone call; it’s about reconnecting, valuing the human voice, and nurturing relationships in a meaningful way during a time when many are reflecting on the past year and looking forward to the new one.

Speculation is that there are many lonely people that are crying for human interaction.

National Fruitcake Day

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December 27th marks a unique celebration in the calendar of food holidays – it’s National Fruitcake Day! This day is dedicated to a dessert that has stirred both love and ridicule in equal measure, yet its rich history and cultural significance cannot be understated. Let’s dive into the world of fruitcake, exploring its origins, its place in holiday traditions, and how we can celebrate this peculiar yet delightful treat.

Fruitcake’s origins trace back to ancient times. The Romans are credited with creating an early version of fruitcake as a form of sustenance for their soldiers, made from a mix of barley, honey, wine, and dried fruits like pomegranate seeds. Over centuries, as dried fruits became more accessible in Europe, fruitcake evolved into the dense, sweet confection we know today. It became a staple in European holiday celebrations, with each region adding its unique twist to the recipe – from Germany’s stollen to Italy’s panforte.

By the time fruitcake crossed the Atlantic to America, it had already become a symbol of holiday cheer and abundance. Here, the cake was often soaked in spirits like bourbon or rum, which not only added flavor but also preserved the cake for months, making it a perfect gift to exchange during the holiday season. Despite its sometimes controversial reputation, fruitcake has been a beloved tradition in many households, often connected with stories and memories passed down through generations.

Why Celebrate National Fruitcake Day?

Cultural Heritage: Fruitcake represents a tapestry of culinary history from various cultures, making it an excellent topic for celebrating diversity in food traditions.
Culinary Challenge: For those who’ve never warmed up to fruitcake, this day is a perfect opportunity to try new recipes or revisit traditional ones. Perhaps you’ll find a version that changes your mind!
Community and Sharing: Fruitcakes have historically been gifts, symbolizing love and care. National Fruitcake Day is a great excuse to share this treat with friends or neighbors, fostering community spirit.
Creativity: From decorating your fruitcake to invent new recipes, this day invites creativity in the kitchen. Why not make your own fruitcake with local or exotic fruits?

Ways to Celebrate:

Bake Your Own: Try your hand at making fruitcake. There are countless recipes out there, from the classic dense cakes soaked in spirits to lighter, modern variations. Perhaps you’ll use a recipe that’s been in your family for generations or experiment with something new.
Fruitcake Tasting: Organize a tasting party where everyone brings their version or a store-bought fruitcake to compare and enjoy together. You might discover that fruitcake can be quite delicious when made or chosen with care.
Fruitcake Toss: Inspired by the Great Fruitcake Toss in Manitou Springs, Colorado, if you’re not a fan, you can have some fun by seeing who can toss a fruitcake the furthest – just make sure it’s in good humor!
Educational Fun: Learn about the history of fruitcake with your family. It’s not just food; it’s a journey through time and cultures.
Gift-Giving: Embrace the tradition of giving fruitcake as a gift. Package them nicely, and maybe you’ll start a new tradition where your fruitcake is eagerly anticipated every holiday season.

Finally, National Fruitcake Day is more than just an ode to a dense dessert; it’s a celebration of culinary history, tradition, and the joy of sharing. Whether you’re a fruitcake aficionado or a curious skeptic, this day offers a chance to appreciate this misunderstood delicacy. So, grab your apron, choose your ingredients, and let’s bake up some fruitcake memories on December 27th. Here’s to the enduring charm of fruitcake, a sweet reminder of the holidays that keeps on giving.

There are rumors going around that fruitcakes were found in the Egyptian pyramids.

National Candy Cane Day

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Have you ever heard of Candy Cane Day?

National Candy Cane Day is observed annually on December 26 in the United States. This day celebrates the candy cane, a traditional Christmas treat known for its distinctive cane shape and usually peppermint flavor with red and white stripes. Here are some key points about National Candy Cane Day:

Candy canes have a storied, though somewhat debated, history. One legend claims they originated in 1670s Germany when a choirmaster at the Cologne Cathedral handed out sugar sticks to keep children quiet during the Christmas Eve service. Another story links candy canes to a later time, with the first documented recipe appearing in 1844.
The day is an opportunity for people to enjoy leftover candy canes from the holiday season or to buy them on discount post-Christmas. Activities might include:
- Eating candy canes or using them in recipes like hot chocolate or peppermint bark.
- Sharing candy canes with friends, family, or neighbors.
- Using them as decorations or in crafting projects.
Candy canes are deeply associated with Christmas, both as a treat and as a symbol. They are often hung on Christmas trees, used in holiday decorations, or given as gifts. The day after Christmas makes sense for this celebration as it encourages the use of all those candy canes accumulated during the festive period.
While peppermint is the classic flavor, modern times have seen candy canes in numerous flavors like cherry, sour apple, blueberry, watermelon, and even unconventional ones like pickle or bacon.
Candy canes are made from sugar, water, and peppermint oil, which some believe might offer health benefits like aiding digestion and freshening breath. However, they are high in sugar, so moderation is key.
On this day, people often post about their candy cane consumption or crafts on social media, using hashtags like #NationalCandyCaneDay to share their celebrations.

The celebration of National Candy Cane Day underscores the candy’s role in holiday culture, providing a fun way to extend the festive season a little longer.

Some Christmas History

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As twinkling lights adorn homes and carols fill the air, it’s time to delve into the rich tapestry of Christmas history. Celebrated on December 25th, Christmas is not just a day but a cultural phenomenon with roots extending deep into various traditions and histories across the globe.

The story of Christmas begins long before the birth of Christianity. In ancient Rome, the celebration of Saturnalia from December 17 to 23 was a time of feasting, role reversals, and general merriment in honor of Saturn, the god of agriculture. This festival was characterized by the exchange of gifts, lighting candles, and a general spirit of lawlessness that was embraced as part of the festivities.

Simultaneously, the Norse celebrated Yule, a midwinter festival around the same time, involving the burning of a Yule log, feasting, and the promise of the return of light as days began to lengthen.

The Birth of Christ

The true pivot to what we recognize today as Christmas came with the Christian era. The exact date of Jesus Christ’s birth is not known, but by the 4th century, December 25 was chosen as the day to celebrate his nativity, possibly to overlay and convert the existing pagan festivals. Pope Julius I is often credited with setting this date.

During the Middle Ages, Christmas evolved with its own customs in Europe. The Feast of the Nativity was a solemn affair, but it also incorporated elements like the “Boy Bishop” where a child would take on the role of bishop for a day, reflecting the playful spirit of earlier pagan festivals. Over time, the celebration became more secular with the introduction of the Christmas tree by German Lutherans in the 16th century, spreading through royal marriages like that of Prince Albert and Queen Victoria in Britain.

The Victorian era significantly shaped modern Christmas. Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol” published in 1843, rekindled the spirit of charity and kindness associated with the holiday. This period also saw the popularization of many traditions we cherish today – from Santa Claus (derived from Saint Nicholas) to the Christmas card, first sent in 1843 by Sir Henry Cole.

The 20th century brought further commercialization with figures like Coca-Cola’s depiction of Santa Claus, which helped cement the jolly, bearded gift-giver in red into popular culture. World War I’s Christmas Truce of 1914 remains one of the most poignant moments in Christmas history, showing humanity’s capacity for peace amidst war.

In the modern era, Christmas has become a global festival, transcending religious boundaries to be a time of family, giving, and reflection. Yet, it retains its Christian essence for many, celebrating the Advent, the nativity scenes, and church services.

Cultural Variations

Mexico celebrates with Las Posadas, reenacting Mary and Joseph’s search for lodging.

Japan has embraced Christmas with a twist, with KFC meals becoming a holiday tradition.

Ethiopia observes Genna, blending Christmas with cultural festivities.

Finally, Christmas’s history is as layered as the snowflakes that might grace your windows. From pagan solstice celebrations to a day of Christian significance, and then to a festival of universal joy, Christmas has evolved, yet at its core, it remains a period for reflection, celebration, and community. As we hang our stockings and light our trees, we partake in a celebration that has been centuries in the making, each element a testament to human culture’s enduring depth and diversity.

As we look forward to future Christmases, may we remember not just the joy of the season but the stories and history that make each tradition meaningful. Here’s to more moments of peace, love, and understanding, wrapped in the festive spirit of Christmas.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Twas the night before Christmas

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On a chilly December 24th day in 1823, the pages of the Troy Sentinel in New York became the cradle for one of the most beloved Christmas stories of all time. “A Visit from St. Nicholas,” more commonly known as “The Night Before Christmas,” was first published, and with it, Clement Clarke Moore gifted the world an enduring piece of holiday magic.

Clement Clarke Moore, a professor of Oriental and Greek literature at Columbia College (now Columbia University), penned this poem as a Christmas gift for his six children. Little did he know that his whimsical tale would capture the hearts of generations to come. Initially, the poem was published anonymously, but it was soon attributed to Moore, who later included it in his 1844 collection, “Poems.”

Moore’s poem has had an indelible impact on how we perceive Santa Claus. Before “The Night Before Christmas,” Saint Nicholas was often depicted in various forms, but Moore’s vivid description gave us the jolly, rotund Santa we know today, with his “little round belly, that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.”

Santa’s Attire: The poem detailed Santa’s outfit, with “a broad face and a little round belly,” clad in “a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.”
The Reindeer: Moore named Santa’s reindeer, introducing the now-iconic Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Dunder (later changed to Donner), and Blixem (later Blitzen).
The Magic of Christmas Eve: The narrative captures the wonder of Christmas Eve, with children nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar-plums dance in their heads.

“The Night Before Christmas” has transcended its initial publication to become a cornerstone of Christmas tradition. It’s recited at countless holiday gatherings, illustrated in children’s books, and adapted into various forms of media. Here’s how it’s woven into our culture:

Literature: The poem has been illustrated by some of the finest artists, with each interpretation adding to its visual legacy.
Music: It has been set to music numerous times, with one of the most famous renditions being by composer Kenneth Darby in the 1950s.
Film and TV: The poem’s imagery has inspired countless animations and adaptations, spreading cheer across screens big and small.

Clement Clarke Moore’s contribution to Christmas folklore is immeasurable. His poem not only shaped our modern image of Santa but also instilled a sense of wonder and joy in the holiday season. It’s a testament to the power of storytelling, where a simple poem for children can resonate through centuries, influencing culture and tradition.

As we enjoy the festivities of Christmas, let’s take a moment to appreciate this piece of literary history. Whether you’re reciting it with family, reading it to your children, or simply reflecting on its verses, “The Night Before Christmas” remains a beacon of holiday spirit, reminding us of the magic that lies in the quiet moments before the dawn of Christmas Day.

So, this holiday season, perhaps you’ll turn to the Troy Sentinel’s gift to the world from 1823, celebrating not just Christmas, but the beauty of literature that connects us across time.

The Festivus Blog

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Festivus, famously known as “Festivus for the rest of us,” is a non-commercial holiday celebrated on December 23, primarily as an alternative to the commercial and religious aspects of Christmas. Originating from a 1997 episode of Seinfeld titled “The Strike,” Festivus has grown from a fictional holiday into a cultural phenomenon embraced by those seeking a less conventional holiday experience.

The holiday was conceived by Daniel O’Keefe, father of Seinfeld writer Dan O’Keefe, in the mid-1960s as a way to celebrate his first date with his wife in a secular, non-materialistic manner. In the Seinfeld episode, it’s depicted through the character Frank Costanza, who introduces the holiday to his friends as a protest against the consumerism of Christmas.

Festivus Traditions

The Festivus Pole: Instead of a Christmas tree, an unadorned aluminum pole is erected. This symbolizes the rejection of holiday commercialism, as the pole has no decorations, especially no distracting tinsel.
The Airing of Grievances: After dinner, participants share how others have disappointed them over the past year. This tradition encapsulates the holiday’s spirit of candor and reflection.
Festivus Dinner: Traditionally, the meal includes meatloaf, often served on a bed of lettuce, contrasting with the lavish feasts of Christmas.
Feats of Strength: The celebration concludes with a wrestling match where the head of the household must be pinned. However, many opt for less physical alternatives like thumb wrestling or arm wrestling.
Festivus Miracles: While not an official tradition, minor, everyday events are humorously labeled as “Festivus miracles,” adding a touch of irony to the day.

Today, Festivus has transcended its television origin to become a part of many people’s holiday rituals. Blogs, social media, and websites like FestivusWeb.com detail how to celebrate the holiday, offering everything from recipes for Festivus dinner to tips on hosting your own “airing of grievances.” Posts on platforms celebrate the holiday with humor and creativity, showcasing personal Festivus poles and recounting grievances aired.

Festivus appeals to those who feel the pressure of traditional holiday celebrations, offering a space for laughter, honesty, and simplicity. It’s an opportunity for families and friends to come together in a way that’s less about gifts and more about genuine interaction. Moreover, it serves as a playful critique of consumer culture, promoting mindfulness during the often-hectic holiday season.

Festivus might be one of the most unique holidays out there, born from television but embraced in real life for its humor and heart. As we approach December 23, whether you’re setting up your aluminum pole or just enjoying the lore, Festivus invites everyone to step back from the commercial rush and enjoy a moment of communal reflection and fun. Remember, you don’t need tinsel, just a willingness to engage with those around you in candid, often comedic, ways. Happy Festivus!

Thomas Edison’s Christmas Lights

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In the tapestry of holiday traditions, few moments shine as brightly as when Thomas Edison, the wizard of Menlo Park, illuminated the first string of electric Christmas tree lights on December 22, 1882. This wasn’t just a festive experiment; it was a moment that would redefine holiday celebrations for generations to come.

Back in 1882, Christmas decorations were predominantly made of candles, which, while beautiful, posed a significant fire hazard. Imagine the scene: the glow of candles on evergreen branches, a sight both enchanting and dangerous. Enter Thomas Edison, who had already made headlines with his incandescent light bulb. Edison’s associate, Edward H. Johnson, took the idea a step further. On December 22, 1882, Johnson, an inventor in his own right and Edison’s partner, adorned his Christmas tree in his New York City home with 80 hand-wired red, white, and blue electric bulbs. This wasn’t just for show; it was a demonstration of what electric lights could do for safety and aesthetics in holiday decor.

The spectacle was reported in the Detroit Post and Tribune, describing how “one can hardly imagine anything prettier.” This wasn’t just a novelty; it marked the beginning of a new era for Christmas decor. Edison’s electric lights were safer than candles, reusable, and didn’t require the constant attention to prevent fires. However, the technology was initially too expensive for the average household. A string of lights could cost as much as a month’s salary for many workers.

But as with many of Edison’s inventions, the price came down over time, and the idea caught on. By the early 20th century, electric Christmas lights had become more accessible, thanks to innovations in manufacturing and a growing electrical infrastructure. Companies like General Electric started producing pre-wired sets, making it easier for families to illuminate their celebrations.

This invention did more than just light up trees; it influenced how we celebrate and remember Christmas. The warm glow of electric lights became synonymous with the holiday spirit, symbolizing joy, warmth, and togetherness. It transformed the Christmas tree from a fire hazard into a centerpiece of safety and celebration. Over the years, the tradition evolved with colored lights, blinking patterns, and eventually, LED technology, which brought energy efficiency into the mix.

Today, when we string up our lights, whether they’re classic incandescent, energy-saving LEDs, or even smart lights that dance to music, we’re participating in a tradition that began with Edison and Johnson’s pioneering demonstration. It’s a reminder of how innovation can create enduring cultural practices. Each twinkle of a light on a Christmas tree is a nod to human ingenuity, turning a simple act of decoration into a celebration of progress and festivity.

In conclusion, Thomas Edison’s contribution to Christmas traditions in 1882 goes beyond mere decoration; it was a beacon of innovation that has continued to evolve. As we plug in our lights each year, we’re not just decorating for the holidays; we’re partaking in a legacy of light, safety, and joy that began with a single, bright idea over a century ago. This year, as you look at your twinkling tree, remember the spark of genius that made it all possible.

“It’s a Wonderful Life”

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“It’s a Wonderful Life,” directed by Frank Capra and released on December 20, 1946, has transcended time to become not just a holiday classic but a timeless piece of cinematic history. Starring James Stewart, Donna Reed, and Lionel Barrymore, this film explores the depths of human emotion, the power of community, and the profound impact one life can have on many. Let’s delve into why this movie continues to captivate audiences around the world.

At its core, “It’s a Wonderful Life” tells the story of George Bailey, a man who has always put others before himself. Despite his dreams of adventure, George remains in his small town of Bedford Falls, running the family business, the Bailey Building and Loan, which offers an alternative to the ruthless practices of the local tycoon, Mr. Potter. On Christmas Eve, after a series of misfortunes, George contemplates suicide, believing he’s worth more dead than alive. An angel, Clarence, is sent to show him what life in Bedford Falls would be like without him. This journey into an alternate reality reveals the true value of George’s life and the countless lives he’s touched.

The Value of Individual Life: The film’s central theme is the worth of every individual. George’s life, seen through the lens of “what might have been,” illustrates how each person’s existence is a thread in the fabric of community life.

Community and Connection: “It’s a Wonderful Life” celebrates the strength of community. It shows how collective support can lift an individual out of despair, emphasizing the importance of friendship, family, and social bonds.
Sacrifice and Selflessness: George’s life is one of sacrifice, where he continually places the needs of others above his own desires. This selflessness is rewarded in the end, not with material gain, but with the love and gratitude of those he’s helped.
Hope and Redemption: The narrative arc from despair to hope is a powerful message, especially during the holiday season. George’s redemption comes from understanding his impact on others, offering a message of hope that resonates with viewers of all ages.

Cultural Impact

Despite its initial lukewarm reception, “It’s a Wonderful Life” has grown into an iconic film, often cited as one of the best movies ever made. Its annual television broadcasts have made it a staple of Christmas viewing. The film’s messages have influenced other works and are often referenced in popular culture. It has also sparked numerous adaptations, including stage plays, remakes, and parodies.

Why It Still Resonates

Universal Themes: The themes of the film are universal, touching on the human condition in ways that remain relevant. The struggle between personal dreams and communal responsibilities, the fight against corruption, and the power of kindness are timeless.
James Stewart’s Performance: Stewart’s portrayal of George Bailey is often hailed as one of his finest roles, capturing the essence of a man at his breaking point yet full of compassion.
Timeless Storytelling: Capra’s direction, with its blend of drama, comedy, and fantasy, crafts a narrative that feels both magical and real, making the film accessible and emotionally engaging.

“It’s a Wonderful Life” is more than just a movie; it’s a cultural touchstone that reminds us of the beauty in everyday life, the importance of community, and the profound impact of kindness. Its message that each life matters is perhaps more poignant now than ever, in a world that can often feel disconnected. As we watch George Bailey’s journey each year, we’re not just celebrating a film; we’re celebrating the human spirit’s resilience and capacity for love and change. This holiday season, or any time you need a reminder of the good in the world, “It’s a Wonderful Life” awaits to show you, once again, the magic in the mundane.

Timeless Tale of “A Christmas Carol”

PODCAST

In the heart of Victorian London, where the fog cloaked the city in a perpetual gloom, Charles Dickens penned a story that would illuminate the spirit of Christmas for generations to come. Published on December 19, 1843, “A Christmas Carol” is not just a book; it’s a cultural phenomenon, a moral compass, and a heartwarming tale that reminds us of the true essence of the holiday season.

The Genesis of the Ghost Story

Charles Dickens, at the time of writing “A Christmas Carol,” was already an established author, yet he faced financial difficulties and sought to reignite his passion for writing. His observations of the stark contrast between the opulent and the impoverished in London fueled his narrative. Dickens intended “A Christmas Carol” as a critique of the industrial age’s harsh realities, particularly the plight of the poor and the indifference of the rich.

The story centers around Ebenezer Scrooge, a miserly old man whose heart is as cold as a winter’s night. Dickens masterfully uses the framework of a ghost story to explore themes of redemption, charity, and the joy of giving. The tale unfolds over Christmas Eve night, during which Scrooge is visited by the ghost of his former business partner, Jacob Marley, and the Spirits of Christmas Past, Present, and Yet to Come.

The Characters and Their Symbolism

Ebenezer Scrooge: More than just a miser, Scrooge represents the potential for change in humanity. His transformation from a bitter recluse to a benevolent figure is the heart of the story.
Jacob Marley: Marley’s ghost serves as a harbinger, warning Scrooge of the chains he will forge in life with his greed and lack of compassion.
The Three Spirits: Each ghost shows Scrooge a different aspect of his life and the lives of others. The Ghost of Christmas Past revisits memories, revealing the joys lost to avarice. The Ghost of Christmas Present displays the current state of happiness and hardship, contrasting Scrooge’s isolation with others’ communal joy. The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come presents a bleak future, motivating Scrooge to change his ways before it’s too late.

The Legacy of “A Christmas Carol”

“A Christmas Carol” did more than entertain; it influenced social reforms. Dickens’ vivid portrayal of poverty and his call for charity contributed to the establishment of the modern form of Christmas celebration, emphasizing kindness, generosity, and community.

The book’s publication was a commercial success, selling out its initial print run by Christmas Eve. Its enduring popularity has led to countless adaptations in theatre, film, radio, and television, each adding its own flavor to Dickens’ narrative but maintaining the core message of redemption and transformation.

Why “A Christmas Carol” Still Resonates

Today, “A Christmas Carol” continues to resonate due to its universal themes:

Redemption: The idea that it’s never too late to change one’s ways offers hope to us all.
Community and Compassion: In a world that often feels divided, the story reminds us of the strength found in community and the power of compassion.
The Spirit of Giving: At a time when consumerism can overshadow the holiday, Dickens’ tale brings us back to the joy of selfless giving.
Reflection and Growth: The journey through Scrooge’s past, present, and possible future is a metaphor for personal reflection and the growth that can come from understanding one’s impact on the world.

“A Christmas Carol” is not merely a seasonal read; it’s a yearly reminder of the values we should uphold every day. Whether through Dickens’ original prose, through the myriad adaptations, or in the quiet moments when we ponder our own lives, the story of Scrooge’s redemption persists as a beacon of hope, urging us to embrace the spirit of Christmas all year round.

How the Grinch Stole Christmas

PODCAST

In the quaint, snowy village of Whoville, nestled in a valley surrounded by high, snow-capped mountains, lived the Who’s. They were a joyful bunch, known for their love of singing, feasting, and celebrating the holiday of Christmas with unparalleled zeal. But high above Whoville, in a cave on the frosty peak of Mount Crumpit, lived a creature known as the Grinch, whose heart was two sizes too small, filled with nothing but disdain for the festive noise below.

The Grinch, with his sour disposition and green, furry exterior, loathed everything about Christmas. The jingling of bells, the warmth of the fireplaces, and the laughter that echoed through the streets of Whoville grated his nerves. Especially bothersome was the Christmas Eve feast, where the Whos gathered in their town square, singing with such volume and glee that it reached even his secluded den.

One particularly cold December, as the Whos’ preparations for Christmas grew louder and brighter, the Grinch hatched a plan so devious, so Grinchy, it could only come from a heart as cold as his. He decided to steal Christmas, to snuff out the holiday for good. With a sinister grin, he donned a red Santa suit, stuffed his dog Max into a reindeer harness, and set off under the cover of night.

Sledding down to Whoville, he moved like a shadow, entering each home with stealth. He took the Christmas trees, the stockings, the presents, and all the trimmings. He even took the last can of Who-hash. With each item he stole, the Grinch thought he was erasing Christmas from the hearts of Whoville.

As dawn broke, the Grinch, satisfied with his mischief, returned to Mount Crumpit, ready to push the stolen goods into the abyss. But just as he was about to, a sound reached his ears. It was faint at first but grew louder, a sound that was unmistakably the Whos singing. In their square, despite having nothing, they sang. Their voices rose in a chorus of joy, not diminished by the absence of material things but rather fueled by the spirit of togetherness.

The Grinch was baffled. He had taken everything, yet here was Christmas, stronger than ever. It was then, in the beauty of their undying cheer, that something profound happened. His heart, which had been small and cold, began to grow. Three sizes larger, it expanded, filling with warmth and the true meaning of Christmas.

Overcome with a new understanding, the Grinch couldn’t bear to keep the Whos from their joy. He returned everything, not just the physical items but also his own changed heart. He joined the Whos in their celebration, carving the roast beast and sharing in their songs, laughter, and love.

From that day forward, the Grinch was no longer an outsider but a part of Whoville. He taught everyone, including himself, that Christmas doesn’t come from a store. Perhaps, Christmas, he thought, means a little bit more. And so, the Grinch, once a symbol of bitterness, became a symbol of transformation and the power of community and kindness.

Thus, the legend of how the Grinch stole Christmas but then gave it back in a way more meaningful than anyone could have imagined, became a cherished tale told year after year in Whoville, reminding all that the true spirit of Christmas lies not in what we have but in who we are together.

The Flight That Changed the World

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On a chilly morning of December 17, 1903, the dunes of Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, became the stage for one of the most transformative moments in human history. Above the sandy terrain, where winds howled with both challenge and promise, two brothers from Dayton, Ohio, named Orville and Wilbur Wright, were about to etch their names into the annals of time.

Orville and Wilbur had spent years, driven by an insatiable curiosity about flight, tinkering in their bicycle shop. They studied birds, read everything they could on aerodynamics, and even built their own wind tunnel to test wing designs. Their passion was not just for flying but for solving the puzzle of controlled flight, which had eluded humanity since Daedalus and Icarus.

The day was carefully chosen; they needed a steady breeze to lift their contraption, which they affectionately called the “Flyer.” The weather on this particular day was both cooperative and challenging, with winds gusting to 27 mph. The brothers, along with a small group of witnesses including their father, Bishop Wright, and a couple of local men, gathered at the chosen spot.

The Flyer was a delicate balance of wood, wire, and fabric, with a wingspan of 40 feet. It was equipped with a 12-horsepower engine and two propellers, all designed by the Wrights themselves. The machine looked more like a giant, ungainly kite than the sleek airplanes of the future, but it embodied the culmination of their dreams and calculations.

Wilbur had won the coin toss that morning, giving him the honor of the first attempt. However, a small mishap with the launch rail meant Orville would take the first flight. With hearts pounding against their chests, they moved the Flyer back into position. Orville lay prone on the lower wing, his hands gripping the controls.

At exactly 10:35 AM, with a shout from John T. Daniels, one of the witnesses who was also manning the camera, Orville released the wire that held the Flyer to the ground. The engine roared to life, and the propellers began to spin, pulling the machine forward. For a moment, it seemed as though it might merely drag along the sand, but then, almost magically, the Flyer lifted.

The flight was brief, lasting only 12 seconds, covering 120 feet. But those scant moments were enough to change the course of history. Orville landed, and the Flyer, though intact, bore the scars of its brief maiden voyage. The brothers were overjoyed; they knew exactly what they had achieved.

Wilbur took the next flight, going further than Orville, and by the fourth and final flight of the day, he managed to keep the Flyer aloft for 59 seconds, traveling 852 feet. Each flight was a testament to their dedication and ingenuity.

That day, the world didn’t fully grasp the significance of what had happened on that nondescript beach. Newspapers gave sparse coverage, and many dismissed the event as a mere novelty. However, Orville and Wilbur knew they had done something monumental. They had conquered the sky, not with magic but with science, perseverance, and an unwavering belief in human potential.

Years later, as airplanes became a common sight in the skies, people would look back on that December day with awe. The Wright brothers’ first flight at Kitty Hawk wasn’t just about defying gravity; it was about defying limitations, about the human spirit’s capability to soar beyond what was once thought possible. Their flight on December 17, 1903, was the first step into a new era of exploration, where the sky was no longer the limit.

I Never Did This Before

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My wife had a Christmas luncheon with the neighborhood ladies’ group. Which meant I had to find something to eat or go to a restaurant and eat by myself. I go up to the local family-owned restaurant and before I pull into a spot another car has pulled into another spot before me. This gentleman goes in a few moments before me.

We are waiting to be seated and there is about twelve of the tables and booths already taken with customers. As we are waiting, he asks me “have I ever eaten here before?” I reply “yes I have, and it is clean, and the food is ok. As we were waiting, I don’t know what came over me, but I asked him, “do you want to eat together?” There was a pause, and he said, “sure why not”. I have never done this before! What was I thinking?

When we went to the booth, He introduced himself and his name is Chuck. I replied with my name and shook hands before we sat down across from each other. Is this going to be an awkward situation or a time to remember? Chuck was a man maybe late forties, early fifties with a greying beard and his clothes were neat and clean. No, that is not a photo of chuck. That is a photo I just pirated from the internet that looks close to what Chuck looked like.

I said to Chuck, “I live near here do you live around here?” Chuck said, “no I live in Boston, and I am here on a business trip to see a client.” I replied, what kind of business do you have? Chuck replied, I am a web site designer and one of my customers needed some personal attention. Like a dummy I asked, is your client somewhere near?” Chuck replied, “sorry, that is privileged information, and my client wants to remain unknown.” I immediately thought, is this going to be an awkward uncomfortable lunch?

Chuck then asked me, “are you still working?” I responded and said, “thanks for the compliment. I have been retired for over twenty years and haven’t worked a day for a salary since I retired. He said, “well you sure do not look your age. I said, “since 2006 every day is Saturday and do not have any serious commitments or deadlines to meet.” I do spend a lot of time blogging and writing down memories of my time and adventures I have experienced.

Somewhere in the conversation we shared our family situations. Chuck has lived in Boston all his life. He has two children, a boy and a girl. The boy is two years older than the girl and the boy graduated from college a year ago and the girl is a senior in college. I shared that I have two sons and they are near fifty and both live in the Denver metro area with their family and I also have four stepchildren from a second marriage, two boys and two girls. This conversation is becoming more relaxed all the time.

We then discovered that both of us were Army veterans. I was in the army in 1964 to 1966. I was stationed to Nurenburg Germany and fortunately missed Viet Nam. Chuck was in the army 2001 to 2005. When you find out that a veteran is talking to a veteran there is this wall that automatically disappears. I don’t know what there about military service is, but this bond develops that cannot be explained. I also find out Chuck was in Iraq the same time as my youngest son in 2003. They were also in the Third Armored Calvary Regiment but different squadrons. Sometimes it is a small world.

Here is another example of a small world. My wife and I were in Rome visiting the coliseum and these men are around dressed in Roman soldier attire. My wife needs a picture and during the process the soldier asks where are we from. We tell him Denver Metro area. He responds by saying, “I know Denver area. In the off season I live in Greeley Colorado. We are 5000 miles away from Denver and meet someone who lives in Greeley which is about 40 miles northeast of Denver. Yes, sometimes it is a small world.

The conversation is going very well and both of us appear to be enjoying that we sat together instead of eating alone. We talked about many different subjects, cars, weather, Boston history for just a few. An hour passed very quickly and Chuck said he should go back to his client. I asked when he is going back to Boston and he said later this evening. This was a very enjoyable meeting and we left without even sharing our last names or any contact information. I have never been very well in extending a friendship and I guess Chuck isn’t either. This meeting enforces my feeling that millions of people are basically good on this earth and are just attempting to do their best with what they have to face. This became a time to be remembered. Will I ever do this again? Only time will tell.

Ramblings Magazine Issue #6 podcast

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Hello Ramblings Magazine reader Welcome!

This is a podcast of the sixth issue of Ramblings Magazine.

The Headings are:

Happenings plus time equals your life.

It will not happen in my life.

Computers and internet.

February 7, 2023.

Time for Spring.

M and M’s.

My interests have changed.

Amazing news.

My dream came true.

King for a day.

Remembering my parents.

I am just a mere mortal.

Patriotism.

A gift of life.

I do not have a favorite shoe.

A three-letter middle name.

100 years ago.

I am addicted to computers and the internet.

I survived the March 14 record snowstorm.

I am ready for spring.

Easter thoughts.

Retirement years.

The necessities of starting the day.

A dog, cat, or what?

Just be myself.

Hormones in high school.

X, formerly twitter and their grok feature.

Photo memories.

That’s it for this issue. Hope to see you next issue

Have a nice day!

Ramblings Magazine Issue #5 Podcast

Ramblings Magazine Issue #5 Podcast

Ramblings Magazine Issue #5 PDF file

Hello Ramblings Magazine reader! Welcome!

This is a podcast of the fifth issue of Ramblings Magazine.

The Headings are:

Memories of Faith.

Comments on Christmas and Holidays.

What’s Next?

Cars in My Life.

A Good Leader.

No Dream Job for Me.

I Was Named After?

I Don’t Have a Pet.

Life is Fun.

Something I Missed.

Decision.

The Lottery and Me.

Complaints, Complaints, Complaints.

Heights.

Vintage Computer.

Cleaning Out Files.

I Avoid the Kitchen.

Fifteen Years

I have received notice from WordPress that I have been on this site for fifteen years.

Where does the time go?

PODCASTS

BOOKS

Proud to be an American

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I remember when I was going to elementary school and sometimes, I would arrive when the flag was being raised for the school day. We would stop and pay respect to the flag until it was raised. I was proud to be an American. You would stand in an assembly and say The Pledge of Allegiant. Again, I was proud to be an American. You learned in school the history of America, and this made you proud to be an American.

I was drafted into the army in 1964. In basic training I crawled through mud trying to keep that damn M-14 rifle clean so it would not jam. I could not take a leave for the Thanksgiving of 1964 because I was told it was critical that I go to Germany. Many nights I froze my butt standing guard on German soil protecting America from the Soviet threat. Vietnam deployment constantly hovered over my head when I was in the army. I would have gone to Vietnam if called. Why? I would have gone because I am proud to be an American.

Throughout my life there have been many events that made me proud that I am a member of this country. I will be proud to be buried in Fort Logan National Cemetery when that time comes.

I have noticed a few things that bother me. For example, I lived close to an elementary school where I can see the flagpole in the daytime. Many days the flag is not raised when school is in session. I guess putting out the flag in the morning is not a priority anymore. I recently attended a school function at my grandsons’ school and the principal forgot about the color guard waiting in the hall to present the flag. Some teacher had to remind her about them. I guess that was not that important to her. It did not take me forty years to be proud of this country.

Illegal immigration is a serious problem. There are millions of people who want to come to America and live the American dream. To me that means that life must be pretty good here. Today is the day for everyone that put their life on the line protecting all that live in the country. If it wasn’t for them this country and the freedoms, you take for granted would not exist.

Happy Veterans Day!

Ramblings Magazine Issue #4 Podcast

Ramblings Magazine Issue #4 PODCAST

Ramblings Magazine Issue #4 pdf file

Hello Ramblings Magazine reader! Welcome!

This is a podcast of the fourth issue of Ramblings Magazine.

The Headings are:

A continuation of “A Journey of Faith and Religion”

Military Memories and Veterans Day

Touched by God

H O A Board Member Tales

Flu Shot, yes, or no?

Thanksgiving Memories

Hope you enjoy it!

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