I was thinking about this prompt and had a thought. “Classic books are overrated when being yourself is underrated.” Therefore, I came up with the following.

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Every now and then, usually when I’m sipping my morning coffee and staring at the news, I’m reminded of a simple truth: I am just a mere mortal.
No cape.
No superpowers.
No ability to leap over tall buildings or stop speeding bullets with my bare hands.

I can’t fly, unless you count the time I tripped over a garden hose and achieved a brief, unplanned moment of airborne grace. I can’t bend steel, unless it’s already bent and I’m just pretending I helped. And I certainly can’t summon millions of readers with a dramatic flick of the wrist.

I blog and I write books. Fourteen of them now.
Not bestsellers. Not chart‑toppers.
Just books — honest ones, heartfelt ones, the kind that wander through memory and meaning at their own pace.

And you know what?
I’m perfectly content with that.

Some people dream of fame, fortune, and a fan base large enough to require security guards. I dream of something simpler: a quiet morning, a good cup of coffee, and the chance to learn something new about myself or the world. At this stage of life, I’ve discovered that learning isn’t just for the young. All your life you are learning from events and transactions with the ones around you. In fact, it might be even sweeter in the later chapters, when you finally stop trying to impress anyone and start trying to understand yourself.

I used to think I needed to accomplish something grand to justify my time on this earth. Something big. Something shiny. Something that would make people say, “Now that is a man who made it.”

But somewhere along the way — maybe during a sunrise, maybe during a quiet walk and a voice came out of nowhere and said, “Tom just be yourself. You were created to be yourself, stop trying to be someone you are not.” I realized that being a mere mortal is not a limitation. It’s a blessing.

Mere mortals get to laugh at themselves.
Mere mortals get to make mistakes and learn from them.
Mere mortals get to write books that may never make millions but still make meaning.
Mere mortals get to live ordinary days that feel extraordinary in hindsight.

I don’t need superpowers.
I don’t need fame.
I don’t need a cape flapping behind me as I stride heroically into the sunset.

What I have is enough.

I have curiosity — the kind that keeps me writing, reading, wondering, and wandering.
I have gratitude — for the people I’ve met, the stories I’ve lived, and the bonus time I’ve been given.
I have contentment — the quiet kind that settles in when you stop chasing the life you thought you were supposed to live and start appreciating the one you actually have.

I am just a mere mortal.
But I’m a mortal who keeps learning, keeps writing, keeps showing up.
And in the end, that feels like its own kind of superpower.

Not the kind that saves the world.
Just the kind that saves the day — one ordinary, beautiful moment at a time.

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sCZcKSszzL0&t=63s YouTube Link

https://www.amazon.com/stores/Tom-Treloar/author/B0F9Y76T6N?ref=ap_rdr&shoppingPortalEnabled=true&ccs_id=3a803c31-6166-4ed8-bd4f-2d27f795910d Amazon link

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In my opinion, Nikola Tesla has been underrated in the development of the electrical grid that we enjoy today. His groundbreaking innovations and visionary ideas laid the foundation for the modern electrical systems we rely on. Tesla’s contributions, such as the development of alternating current (AC) technology, allowed for the efficient transmission of electricity over long distances, which was crucial for powering cities and industries alike. Furthermore, his experiments with wireless energy transfer and his insights into electromagnetic fields not only showcased his genius but also paved the way for future technological advancements. Despite facing numerous challenges and opposition throughout his career, Tesla’s relentless pursuit of knowledge has had a profound and lasting impact on how we harness and distribute electrical energy, ultimately shaping our everyday lives through a reliable and accessible electrical grid.

He immigrated to the United States in 1884 with little money and initially worked briefly for Thomas Edison before their famous rivalry over AC vs. DC power systems. Thomas Edison has received way more credit than Nikola.

Many times, financial difficulties in later years hamper his reputation, leading to a cascade of negative perceptions that can overshadow earlier achievements and contributions. These struggles often result in a loss of trust from colleagues and investors alike, as they question his ability to manage not only his personal finances but also the businesses and projects he is involved in. Consequently, what once was a thriving professional image can quickly diminish, emphasizing how crucial financial stability is to maintaining one’s reputation in both personal and professional spheres.

Nikola died penniless in a New York hotel room in 1943 at age 86.

In my opinion, Nikola should be recognized as much as Thomas Edison in the development of the electrical grid that runs this country.

When I saw this prompt, I thought, “what is minimalist living”? I didn’t have a clue what this was. I am over eighty and have led a sheltered life. Therefore, I went to AI and asked for an explanation. Here is what Mr. Hypertyper replied with.

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Minimalist living is a lifestyle philosophy focused on intentionally owning and doing less to create space for what truly matters. It emphasizes simplicity, purpose, and freedom from excess—whether that’s physical clutter, unnecessary commitments, or distractions.

becomingminimalist.comCore IdeaAt its heart, minimalism is the idea that “less is more.” It’s not about extreme deprivation, living in an empty room, or rejecting all possessions. Instead, it’s about curating your life so that everything you keep serves a purpose, brings joy, or adds real value.

theminimalists.comPopular definitions include:

• Joshua Fields Millburn & Ryan Nicodemus (The Minimalists): “Minimalism is the thing that gets us past the things so we can make room for life’s most important things—which actually aren’t things at all.” theminimalists.com
• Joshua Becker (Becoming Minimalist): Intentionally promoting what you value most and removing everything that distracts you from it. becomingminimalist.com

It applies beyond stuff—to your time, relationships, schedule, digital life, and spending habits.Key Principles

• Intentionality: Regularly ask, “Does this add value to my life?” If not, let it go.
• Quality over quantity: Choose fewer, better items that last.
• Focus on experiences: Prioritize relationships, health, passions, growth, and contribution over material accumulation.
• Mindful consumption: Avoid impulse buys and “just in case” items.
• Simplicity: Reduce decisions, clutter, and obligations for more clarity and freedom. conni.me

What Minimalist Living Looks Like in Practice

• Home: Fewer possessions, clear surfaces, multifunctional furniture, and a calm aesthetic. Think neutral colors, natural light, and only items you use regularly.
• Wardrobe: A small “capsule” collection of versatile, high-quality clothes.
• Schedule: Saying no to non-essential commitments to free up time.
• Finances: Lower spending leads to less debt and more savings.
• Mindset: Gratitude for what you have and contentment without constant “more.” sofi.com

Here are some visual examples of minimalist living rooms:https://artifacts.grokusercontent.com/third-party-image

thespruce.comhttps://artifacts.grokusercontent.com/third-party-image

architecturaldigest.comhttps://artifacts.grokusercontent.com/third-party-image

architecturaldigest.comhttps://artifacts.grokusercontent.com/third-party-image

thespruce.comBenefits

• Less stress — Fewer things to manage and clean.
• More time and freedom — Less maintenance, shopping, and decision fatigue.
• Financial savings — Reduced spending on unnecessary items.
• Better focus and productivity — A clearer environment supports a clearer mind.
• Environmental impact — Less consumption means less waste.
• Greater happiness — More room for meaningful experiences and relationships. becomingminimalist.com

Getting StartedYou don’t have to go extreme. Start small:

1. Declutter one area (e.g., a drawer or countertop).
2. Apply the “one in, one out” rule for new purchases.
3. Reflect on your values—what do you want more time/energy for? bemorewithless.com

Minimalism is highly personal—your version might look very different from someone else’s. It’s a tool for living more deliberately, not a rigid set of rules. Many people find it leads to greater peace, purpose, and joy.

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Now that I learned what Minimalism living is I have no desire to even think about this kind of lifestyle.

I am happen with my current lifestyle

When I was a kid, I was obsessed with doing everything fast. It appears that life indoctrinates young kids on doing things the fastest. Who can run the fastest, how fast can you finish the test, and how long does it take to memorize a verse or something? Everything throughout life had speed involved, from the race on the playground to the countdown before the school bell rang. Speed has been important all my life, shaping my experiences and choices in ways I only began to understand as I grew older. This relentless pursuit of swiftness seems ingrained in our culture, where success is often measured by how quickly we can accomplish tasks. Now AI is keeping up the tradition and making everything faster than before, providing tools and solutions that streamline our daily routines, elevate our productivity, and challenge us to redefine our limits. In this fast-paced world, I often wonder if the rush for speed has made us lose sight of the beauty in taking our time and enjoying the journey.

Since I spend a lot of time on the computer, internet, and other similar items, it’s crucial for me to have a reliable and efficient machine by my side. My favorite brand is Dell, known for its robust performance and user-friendly interface. Throughout my journey, I have tried various brands, including HP, Acer, and others, but none have quite matched the satisfaction I’ve experienced with Dell. With Dell, I’ve found my devices to be not only dependable but also equipped with exceptional customer support, which is a significant factor when investing in technology. In contrast, HP has a mind of its own; it often behaves unpredictably, leaving me frustrated at times as I never quite know what is going to happen next. As for Acer, well, no thanks—I’ve had some lackluster experiences that didn’t inspire confidence in their products. Ultimately, Dell stands out in my eyes as the best choice for anyone who values consistency and quality in their computing experience.

I have had Dodge, Chevrolet, Subaru, Mazda, and Honda. My last two vehicles have been Honda’s, and I must say, they have consistently impressed me with their reliability, fuel efficiency, and comfort. Each brand offered its own unique experience, but Honda’s performance and features have truly stood out for me in my recent driving experiences. I’ve enjoyed the smooth rides and advanced technology that come with newer Honda models. With my growing affection for Honda, it’s safe to say there’s no need to say anything else as I feel a strong loyalty toward this brand, which has become my go-to choice for vehicles.

I also like Crest toothpaste, Gatorade, Pepsi, Oral B, Walmart, and the list could go on and on.

First, my wife. I love and admire my wife deeply, appreciating her unique perspective and wisdom. I always consult with her before making any decisions that would affect our lives, as I believe her insights are invaluable. This is truly a partnership, where we share our thoughts, fears, and dreams. As they say, two minds are better than one, and together we navigate the complexities of life, ensuring that our choices reflect both of our values and aspirations. By working collaboratively, we strengthen our bond and create a future that we can both cherish and look forward to.

Second, doctors and medical personnel. Being at the age where more medical advice and directions are needed, I admire and accept the doctors and medical staff to direct me to continue having a meaningful and happy life. Their expertise and compassionate guidance offer me reassurance, helping me navigate the complexities of health and wellness. I value the regular check-ups and consultations that not only aim to address immediate concerns but also focus on preventive care, which is essential as I age. Each interaction with my healthcare providers strengthens my understanding of my body and empowers me to make informed choices about my lifestyle. I appreciate their commitment to educating me about new treatments, therapies, and ways to enhance my quality of life, fostering a collaborative relationship that encourages me to actively participate in my health journey. Ultimately, their unwavering support inspires confidence in my ability to maintain a vibrant and fulfilled life despite the challenges that may arise.

Finally, there is a lot of family and friends that I love and admire, each of whom has shaped my life in unique ways. Their kindness, support, and wisdom always inspire me; however, I do not go to them for advice. This may seem surprising, given the close bonds we share, but I often find it difficult to express my concerns or seek their input. At least for now, I can’t think of any time I consulted them for advice, as I prefer to navigate my challenges independently, believing that some lessons are best learned through personal experience.

Yes, I vote in political elections. I have been voting since I registered to vote when I turned 21 years old. I was taught that voting was important to continue the American way of life, as it empowers citizens to voice their opinions and make a difference in their communities. The only time I didn’t vote was when I was in the army stationed overseas in Germany, where I faced challenges in accessing ballots and balancing my duties. During that time, I realized even more how crucial participating in elections is, not just for myself but for those who may not have the opportunity to do so. Voting is not just a privilege; it is a responsibility that connects us all in the democratic process.

Unfortunately, the political arena has become very toxic. The hate and anger you see is very discouraging these days; it permeates our media, social platforms, and everyday conversations, making it difficult to engage in healthy discourse. You never hear how a party can improve an issue; instead, it seems like every discussion is dominated by pointed fingers and blame. You just hear that the other party is doing it all wrong, contributing to an environment where constructive dialogue is nearly impossible. In my over 80 years, this is the worst it has ever been, even worse than the tumultuous Viet Nam era when society was deeply divided. I remember when there was an unwritten rule that wives and children of elected officials were off-limits; they were protected from the harsh criticisms and attacks that often came with political life. Not anymore, they are targets just as much as the opposing official, dragged into the fray despite their lack of involvement in politics. This shift is nothing short of disgusting! In my opinion, if this atmosphere does not change, this country is on the slow road to destruction, as polarization erodes the fabric of our democracy and leaves us divided and unable to work together for the common good.

This site is about “comments about everything”. However, since the political atmosphere is so toxic, I consciously choose to avoid the issue. Instead, I want to focus on sharing stories and events about the good things in life, celebrating positivity and kindness, rather than perpetuating hate and anger. It’s essential to create a space where uplifting narratives can thrive, where the beauty of human experiences is highlighted, and where we can all find hope and joy amidst the chaos of negativity. By doing so, I aim to inspire readers to reflect on their own lives, fostering a community centered around love, compassion, and understanding. These stories can serve as reminders that even in trying times, there are countless reasons to smile and reasons to be grateful.

God loves all unconditionally, embracing each person with an infinite grace that transcends all boundaries, regardless of their past, present, or future mistakes. This divine love offers a refuge, reminding us that we are worthy of compassion and acceptance, inviting us to grow in our faith and understanding. In this boundless affection, we find strength and hope, illuminating our paths even in the darkest times, encouraging us to extend that same love to others in our lives.

Christ died for all of our sins, taking upon Himself the immense burden of our transgressions and offering a path to redemption through His selfless act of love and sacrifice. This profound event not only symbolizes forgiveness but also embodies the hope for eternal life and a restored relationship with God. The significance of Christ’s death resonates deeply within the hearts of believers, reminding us of the depth of His compassion and the lengths to which He went to reconcile humanity with the divine. In recognizing this immense gift, we are called to reflect on our own lives and the transformative power of grace that flows from His sacrifice.

Yes, I’ve been camping — more times than I can count. After I came back from my army tour, I worked alongside a World War II veteran named Jack. He was of Japanese descent, one of the thousands who volunteered to serve during the war to prove their loyalty to a country that hadn’t always shown loyalty to them. Jack fought in Italy and later somewhere in France, moving through towns whose names he could never quite pronounce but never forgot. His service ended the day he caught a hand grenade in the stomach. He told the story quietly, without drama, as if it were just another thing that had happened to him, like a flat tire or a bad winter.

Jack became a good friend — the kind of friend you don’t plan on but end up grateful for. Jack was somewhere around 20 years older than me. We went camping whenever we could get away. The reason was simple: we both loved to fish. That was our excuse, anyway. We’d load up the station wagon and head for the lakes in Wyoming, chasing the idea of a trophy fish we never actually caught. But that never mattered. The real catch was the time — the long drives, the quiet mornings, the smell of coffee heating on a camp stove, the way the world felt bigger and kinder out there.

Jack had a way of sitting by the water that made you think he was listening to something deeper than the wind. Sometimes he’d talk about the war; sometimes he’d talk about nothing at all. Either way, those trips settled into my memory like stones in a riverbed — solid, unmoving, part of the shape of my life.

I will always remember Jack.

After I was married and had two sons, my wife and I camped with them, embracing the joys of nature as a family. We couldn’t afford a huge motor home or trailer, so our trusty 1/2-ton Chevy van became our home on wheels. Even though it was modest, the van held all our camping gear, from sleeping bags to a portable grill, and with everyone squeezed in, it made the adventures even more exciting. Setting up the tent each time felt like a new challenge, but once we settled in, the real fun began. Sitting around the crackling fireplace at night, the warmth enveloping us, we would share stories and roast marshmallows, pondering why the smoke always seemed to trail around us, as if it had a mind of its own. The sounds of the forest at night—the rustling leaves and distant hoots of owls—provided a soothing backdrop, reminding us of the beauty surrounding us. However, bears never came to visit us in the middle of the night.

These are memories you cherish your entire life; treasures etched in time that bring smiles to our faces even years later.

I get most of my productive duties done in the mornings, a time when I truly feel at my best. The quiet of the early hours allows me to focus without distractions, creating a perfect environment for tackling the day’s tasks. I feel rested, refreshed, and energized after a good night’s sleep, and my mind is clear as I sip on my warm morning coffee, which not only awakens my senses but also fuels my creativity. After enjoying a nutritious breakfast, I find that my thoughts flow more freely, making it easier to develop ideas and plan out the day’s agenda. Unfortunately, this feeling does not stay much longer than 3 or 4 hours and I am not motivated and productive throughout the day.

As the day continues, brain fog starts to creep in, clouding my thoughts and making it increasingly difficult to focus on the tasks at hand. My motivation diminishes with each passing hour, leaving me feeling drained and tired. Moreover, it becomes hard to start a new project when my mind feels like a tangled mess, filled with distractions and uncertainty about how to proceed. I often find myself staring at a blank screen, wishing for that spark of creativity to reemerge and guide me towards new beginnings.

Oh, don’t get me wrong, I do not couch potato for the remainder of the day, indulging in endless hours of inactivity on the sofa; rather, I strive to maintain a balance between rest and productivity. However, as the sun rises higher in the sky and the hours pass, it just becomes more difficult and tiring to perform tasks than it does in the morning when I am filled with energy and motivation. The fatigue of the day’s earlier activities piles up, making even the simplest of chores feel like monumental tasks, leading me to long for the ease and vigor of my morning self.

On April 22, 1995, I took a risk and got married for a second time, embracing the journey of love with an open heart and a renewed spirit. I do not regret it one bit, for this choice has brought immense joy and fulfillment into my life, allowing me to grow and learn alongside my partner as we faced life’s challenges together with unwavering support and mutual respect.

I had a practice wife before, and that bond only lasted 11 years, which felt both like a blink of an eye and an eternity at the same time. It was a significant learning experience for me, one rich with lessons learned through both triumphs and mistakes. I made many mistakes in that relationship that have undeniably shaped my perspective, helping me grow and better understand what it takes to nurture a healthy partnership in my second marriage. However, when my first marriage fell apart, I found myself grappling with a wave of emotions and had no desire to join the club of married couples again, feeling disillusioned and hesitant about love. It was a time of reflection, allowing me to delve deeper into my own heart and what I truly wanted from life. However, that relationship did generate two great sons who bring joy and purpose to my life, and I love them with all my heart, cherishing the bond we share as a family.

It took ten long years to remove the bad taste of marriage, a bitterness that lingered until it was finally washed away by the tide of time and personal growth. Through this journey, I learned that marriage can indeed be a beautiful thing, a loving alliance forged through mutual respect and understanding. I committed to the promise of “until death do us part,” recognizing the importance of dedication and the strength found in partnership. This trip of forty years has been nothing short of a remarkable adventure, filled with laughter and shared dreams, truly embodying what I always envisioned as a lasting loving relationship when I was young and naive, searching for a love that would stand the test of time. Each moment has woven our lives together deeper than I ever imagined, and I am grateful for the lessons learned along the way.

Being late makes me very nervous. All my life I hated being late, as it always felt like I was letting myself and others down. I don’t know where I got this trait, but as I age, it is getting harder and harder to be late. The mere thought of it sends my heart racing and my mind spiraling into a whirlwind of anxiety. Now, I must be at least 15 minutes ahead of time before I start to get nervous, constantly checking the clock to ensure I won’t miss a moment. This obsession with punctuality frustrates my wife because she is the type to be close to on time or a little late, often reminding me to relax and enjoy the moment. However, for me, being late equates to chaos and disorder, and I find it difficult to shake off that feeling. Once I’m there, finally settled into the environment, I start to calm down, but until that point, it’s a constant battle against my own apprehensions and the pressure I put on myself.

I hurry in,
heart tapping its own Morse code,
hoping no one noticed
the way time slipped past me.
Being late shouldn’t matter—
yet somehow
my pulse insists it does.

An AI poem.

The most important social media site for me is my website, https://2tts.wordpress.com/ via WordPress, where I passionately share my thoughts and comments on a plethora of topics, embracing the essence of blogging almost every workday. Each post serves as a canvas for my ideas, and sometimes, on weekends, I find inspiration that drives me to craft a blog entry as well. This creative outlet has been incredibly enjoyable for me, offering a precious opportunity to express myself and connect with others who share similar interests. Engaging with my audience through the comments section also enhances my experience, as it fosters a sense of community and allows for enriching discussions about the diverse subjects I cover. Whether I’m discussing current events, personal reflections, or creative writing, I cherish the freedom to explore my thoughts and share the things I write about with a wider audience.

I also have a Facebook account, but I post very little there. Most of the time, I just use the site to keep up with the happenings of family and friends, scrolling through their updates and photos to stay connected with their lives. Occasionally, I might share a thought or a picture, but I prefer to observe and engage with the content posted by others, as it allows me to feel involved without the pressure of constant posting. This way, I can enjoy the moments of my loved ones, celebrate their achievements, and offer support during challenging times, all while maintaining my own privacy and comfort level with social media.

I use X and LinkedIn to promote my Amazon Kindle and paperback books, sharing insights, snippets, and engaging with potential readers. While I am not looking for a job or expect to make large amounts of money from my books, I deeply appreciate the connections I foster through these platforms. It brings me joy to receive feedback and interact with members. I just need my ego stoked knowing that there are readers out there that enjoy my books, and every positive comment or review serves as a gentle reminder that my words resonate with someone. It’s not just about the sales, but about creating a community of like-minded individuals who share a passion for literature.

I have a Substack account also, which I created out of curiosity and a desire to share my thoughts with a broader audience. However, I could never quite get the hang of it; the platform was hard to navigate for me as a newcomer, and I struggled to understand its various features and functionalities. Despite its potential for building a community and fostering engagement, I found myself overwhelmed and somewhat intimidated by the interface. As a result, my account remains inactive, a digital space that is still there but basically dormant, waiting for the day when I might finally find the motivation and clarity to fully utilize it.

I suppose there are other sites I use but can’t think of them now.

Some decisions arrive without asking our permission. In 1964, mine showed up in a plain envelope with government lettering and a tone that didn’t invite negotiation. Your friends and neighbors have selected you to serve in The United States Army. I was drafted into the U.S. Army, handed a new trajectory, and told to report on this date. I accepted this news and decided to make the best of it, instead of moving to Canada.

At the time, it felt like being pushed onto a stage I hadn’t auditioned for. But looking back, that moment became one of the quiet turning points of my life. The Army taught me discipline before I knew I needed it, responsibility before I fully understood it, and resilience in ways only real life can teach.

It carried me far from home—to new places, Germany, not Viet Nam, new people, and a wider world than the one I’d grown up imagining. I learned how to adapt, how to trust others, and how to stand steady when the ground shifted. Those lessons didn’t stay in the barracks; they followed me into every chapter that came after.

I didn’t choose the draft.
But I chose how to meet it.
And that choice helped shape the person I’ve been becoming ever since.

However, I do not recommend reviving the military draft. If I remember correctly, the army consisted of approximately 40% being drafted, which created a unique set of challenges. The draft often led to individuals serving who were not fully committed or prepared for military life, resulting in a more diverse group of soldiers with varying levels of motivation. In my opinion, this fluctuation in commitment among draftees contributed to a decline in morale, as those who were genuinely passionate about serving faced challenges in unifying a team with members who might be there out of obligation rather than a sense of duty. Consequently, I believe that the lowered morale seriously diminished the effectiveness of the army, impacting not only the soldiers on the ground but also the overall mission objectives, as unity and shared purpose are crucial in ensuring a disciplined and capable force.

My favorite restaurant is Dee’s Cafe. It is warm and friendly, creating an inviting atmosphere that makes you feel at home the moment you step inside. The decor is charming, with cozy seating and vibrant colors that give it a unique character. The only time it is crowded is during the holidays, when families gather to enjoy a delightful meal together. The cooking is terrific and always tasty, with a diverse menu that showcases both comfort food and seasonal specialties crafted from fresh, local ingredients. The travel time is very short, making it a convenient option for a spontaneous dinner or a planned outing, and parking is never a problem, allowing guests to arrive without any stress. I have known the cook for over forty years, and we get along very well; our friendship has grown over countless shared meals and laughter, and always knows how to accommodate my favorite dishes, making each visit even more special.

Yes, I am writing about Dee’s Cafe, and the owner is my wife. It is amazing that I am not over 250 pounds the way she feeds me, with her incredible culinary skills and passion for creating delicious meals that tantalize the taste buds. From the moment you walk into the cafe, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods envelops you, making it hard to resist indulging in her daily specials. Hopefully, we will have many more years of dining together, savoring the delightful dishes she prepares, and sharing all the conversations we have about the events and situations in our life together, reflecting on cherished memories and dreaming of future adventures. Each meal is not just about the food but also about the love and warmth that fills the space, making Dee’s Cafe a true heartwarming corner of our lives.

Hard question, I am over eighty. Today or tomorrow may be my last day due to a medical emergency that has unexpectedly arisen, thrusting me into a state of uncertainty and reflection. If that doesn’t happen, I may be forced into a dependent living situation that could alter my lifestyle significantly, stripping away my independence and requiring me to rely on others for assistance in daily activities.

Alternatively, my mobility may decline, which would prevent me from getting around as easily as I do now, limiting my ability to engage with the world around me and enjoy the simple pleasures of life, such as walking in the park, visiting friends, or exploring new places that bring joy and inspiration. This shift could lead to a sense of isolation, as my interactions with loved ones would become more challenging, and simple outings might be replaced with lingering feelings of longing for connection. Furthermore, the inability to participate in activities I cherish, like spontaneous trips to a local café or leisurely strolls through vibrant markets, could lead to a gradual sense of disconnection from the vibrant community that surrounds me, amplifying the importance of mobility in retaining my sense of freedom and fulfillment.

On the brighter side, there’s always hope that I may be in the same situation as now, maintaining relative good health and financial stability, which will not only allow me to continue pursuing my passion of writing but also enable me to explore new avenues of creativity and self-expression. This stability provides a unique opportunity for me to stay connected with loved ones, fostering deeper relationships and shared experiences that enrich my life. I also cherish the moments of savoring the joys of each day, whether it’s through enjoying the beauty of nature, discovering a new book, or sharing laughter over a meal with family and friends. All while navigating the inevitable challenges that come with aging, I can approach each obstacle with resilience and wisdom, appreciating the lessons learned along the way that contribute to my growth and understanding of life.

Life is a challenge. In high school I discovered bullies, which was a harsh reality that many of us faced. Those twelfth graders sure like to pick on the tenth graders just coming into high school, preying on our insecurities and inexperience. It felt overwhelming at times, navigating the halls filled with laughter and whispers, knowing that some would take pleasure in belittling others. I learned quickly that high school was not just about academics; it was also a social battleground where friendships were tested and alliances formed, often leaving the vulnerable feeling isolated and anxious. Yet, through these experiences, I began to understand the importance of resilience and the value of supporting one another amidst the chaos.

I needed to ride public transportation to school and learned there is a wide variety of people and lifestyles that I have never encountered before. From the moment I stepped onto the bus, I was enveloped in a bustling microcosm of humanity, each individual with their own stories and backgrounds. It was fascinating to observe the daily rituals of commuters; some were buried in their books. As I sat there, the sights and sounds around me painted a broader picture of life in the city, one that was both complex and beautiful. My world was expanding, and it was scary, yet exhilarating, as I found myself confronted with perspectives that challenged my own beliefs and comfort zones. I realized that every face in the crowd held a unique narrative, and in that realization, I began to appreciate the rich tapestry of diversity that surrounded me.

High school years were a challenging and tumultuous time for me. I was grappling with a whirlwind of hormones that I didn’t fully understand, which only added to my feeling of confusion and isolation. I struggled with self-acceptance, often finding it difficult to like myself amidst the chaos of adolescence, and this internal conflict manifested itself in anger and frustration. My emotional turmoil was perhaps evident as I interacted with other teenagers, many of whom were navigating their own struggles and insecurities. Despite the shared experiences of my peers, I often felt like an outsider, lost in a sea of uncertainty. Additionally, I was the only one in my neighborhood who managed to graduate from high school, a feat that seemed both significant and lonely. It was largely thanks to the persistent encouragement and support of my parents that I persevered and ultimately completed my education, despite the obstacles I faced along the way, thus laying the groundwork for future achievements.

This was a tipping point for me and fortunately I tipped the right direction.

One of the most positive changes I’ve made in my life didn’t arrive with fireworks or a grand announcement. It arrived when I was walking on a graveled path with no one around and this voice came to me and said, “Tom start trying to be something you are not. You were created too just by yourself.” Therefore after 65 years I decided to just be myself.

It sounds simple, almost embarrassingly simple, like something you’d find stitched on a pillow or printed on a coffee mug. But it wasn’t simple at all. It took decades of trying to fit into expectations, smoothing out my edges, second‑guessing my instincts, and worrying about what people might think. It took raising a family, working hard, making mistakes, learning from them, and living long enough to realize that most of the things I once worried about didn’t matter nearly as much as I thought.

After that event— I stopped performing and started existing. I stopped trying to be the version of myself I thought people wanted and became the version that felt true. The version that laughs easily, speaks honestly, volunteers freely, and doesn’t apologize for taking up space in the world.

It took me around sixty‑five years to get there, but the timing feels right. There’s a freedom in later life that no one tells you about when you’re young. A kind of quiet confidence. A sense that you’ve earned the right to be exactly who you are, without trimming or polishing or shrinking.

And once I finally arrived at that place — that place of being yourself without hesitation — I wondered why it took an unknown voice. But I also realized the journey was part of the becoming. Every year, every misstep, every lesson carved out the space I now stand in.

Being myself is the best change I’ve ever made. It just took me a lifetime to grow into it.

Going to the local rec center and using their facilities is always an invigorating experience. They have a large pool, and you can walk around it and watch the water exercisers doing their thing, as they glide through the water, making their routines look effortless. There is a room full of equipment for muscle development, featuring weight machines, free weights, and versatile equipment for various workouts. The usual exercise units, such as rowing machines and stationary bicycles, are also available, which I use diligently for my workout sessions. You get to hear people grunt and sweat, the sounds of effort ringing throughout the gym, creating a motivating atmosphere. Additionally, conversations arise among the workout attendants, discussing fitness tips, sharing personal goals, and forging connections that make the whole experience feel more communal. The energy is contagious, fostering a sense of camaraderie among individuals striving towards their fitness objectives.

They also have a room full of vending machines and a cozy lounge area where you can replace all the calories you used during your workout. The atmosphere is inviting, with comfortable seating arrangements and soft lighting that encourages relaxation and social interaction. Tables are available for sitting and talking, playing cards, or enjoying other games, creating a sense of community among the visitors. Throughout the years, I have met many friends there, each of whom has added a unique story to my experiences. This is a place where you get more than just exercise; it’s a hub for building connections, sharing laughs, and fostering friendships that extend beyond the fitness routines. Every visit feels like a blend of physical activity and social engagement, making it an essential part of my daily routine.

Unfortunately, the aging process has slowed me down some bit, making it more challenging to engage in activities that once brought me so much joy. But I will always have the fond memories of exercising there, where the air was filled with motivation, and I could feel the energy of others around me. It’s not just about the physical exertion; it’s about the laughter, the encouragement shared between friends, and the countless conversations that sparked inspiration and camaraderie. Those moments, filled with both struggle and triumph, will forever be cherished, as they painted my journey with vibrant colors that still bring a smile to my face even today.

I do not see many changes since the COVID scare, which has left a lingering impact on our daily lives, habits, and interactions. While some aspects of society have adapted to the new normal, many of the same challenges and routines persist, making it feel as though we have reverted to a familiar state rather than experiencing significant transformation. This stagnation highlights the resilience of certain behaviors and practices that have become a part of our everyday existence, even in light of such an unprecedented global event.

I recently went to Urgent Care for another ailment, seeking professional help and hoping to receive the appropriate care. To my surprise, COVID was not even brought up during my visit, which felt odd considering how significant the pandemic has been in our lives. A few of the medical staff wore masks, but they were few and far between, and the lack of a consistent approach to precautions was notable. I wasn’t even asked if I wanted to bring my COVID vaccinations up to current levels, which left me questioning the prioritization of health protocols in a medical setting. In my opinion, I feel the scare surrounding COVID is over, and it never amounted to the danger that it was hyped up to be. As we move forward, it seems like society has begun to shift its focus, towards a sense of normalcy.

The obvious is their facial features, which serve as a prominent aspect of their identity, reflecting a significant blend of emotions, expressions, and cultural heritage. Each curve and line tells a story, revealing not only their individual character but also the history and traditions of their lineage. The way their eyes light up with joy or deepen with concern provides a window into their thoughts and feelings, making it an essential part of how they communicate with the world around them.

From a scientific standpoint, it is your DNA that makes you unique, as it contains the genetic blueprint that defines every aspect of your physical and biological traits, from the color of your eyes to the shape of your nose and even your predisposition to certain diseases. This complex molecule, composed of sequences of nucleotides, not only determines your individual characteristics but also influences your behavior and personality through intricate biochemical pathways. Each person’s DNA is a unique combination inherited from their parents, resulting in variations that contribute to the vast diversity observed in human populations worldwide. Understanding the nuances of your genetic makeup can provide valuable insights into your ancestry, health, and potential future, highlighting the profound role that DNA plays in shaping who you are.

Finally, it is that built-in attraction that draws some individuals in with an undeniable force while leaving others indifferent or even repelled. This intriguing phenomenon often sparks curiosity about the underlying reasons for such differing reactions. It raises questions about how personal experiences, innate preferences, and even cultural influences shape our responses to certain stimuli. Understanding this complex dynamic can lead to deeper insights into human behavior and the nature of attraction itself.

I don’t have a clue. I can’t remember what I ate yesterday let alone what I was thinking at five. I was too busy playing and didn’t have a care in the world, lost in the carefree days of childhood when the sun seemed to shine a little brighter and every moment was filled with laughter and adventure. I was young, running freely in the playground, surrounded by friends, the essence of joy in our playful banter, creating stories with our imaginations. I wasn’t even thinking about where I was going or the future that lay ahead; instead, my mind was a canvas painted with the vibrant shades of innocence and wonder, embracing every fleeting moment as if it would last forever.

Most individuals fail to recognize that experiencing failures and heartbreaks is a necessary component of life; these occurrences are not merely unavoidable but are fundamental for personal development. Each setback acts as a crucial lesson, instilling qualities such as resilience, empathy, and the significance of perseverance amidst adversity. Although the anguish of disappointment may seem insurmountable at times, it ultimately compels individuals to introspect, reevaluate their objectives, and emerge fortified. Confronting these challenges fosters a profound appreciation for success, rendering accomplishments significantly more impactful when attained.

Haven’t had a job for over twenty years, so, I don’t care. I’m’ retired and loving it.

I have never kept track of how many times I have said no. Saying no is just as important as saying yes.

Saying “no” isn’t about shutting the world out; rather, it is an essential part of establishing healthy boundaries that protect our time and energy while allowing us to prioritize our own needs and well-being. By confidently asserting our limitations, we create space for more meaningful commitments and interactions in our lives. Embracing the power of “no” can lead to greater focus and fulfillment, ultimately enhancing our ability to engage with our passions and relationships on a deeper level.

It’s about wholeheartedly embracing the commitments you’ve chosen for yourself. Engaging with your aspirations not only requires dedication but also a joyful willingness to dive deep into what you truly desire. You’re not just shielding your goals from life—you’re actively crafting your life around what truly matters, prioritizing these dreams in your daily actions and decisions. This positive approach transforms your environment into a vibrant reflection of your values, empowering you to flourish in areas that resonate with your passions, ultimately leading to a richer and more rewarding existence.

I wish I had the ability to read minds, as it would open up a world of understanding that most people can only dream of. The insights I could gain into the thoughts and feelings of those around me would be invaluable. Since I am just dreaming, I might as well wish for something big, like the power to truly connect with others on a deeper level, breaking down barriers and fostering genuine empathy in our interactions. Imagine being able to comprehend the unspoken worries of a friend or the hidden desires of a colleague; it could revolutionize our relationships and enrich our lives in ways we can’t yet imagine.

Can you picture this: what if you had a superpower that could reveal whether that acquaintance genuinely likes you or if they’re just buttering you up because they desperately need a favor? It’s like having a magical lie detector, but instead of “lie,” it just says, “Can you lend me twenty bucks?”

Spring is my favorite season because it’s like finally escaping from a long, frozen hibernation where my biggest decision was whether to wear pajama pants or long johns! Out with those four months of cold gloom, and in with a refreshing blast of renewal—now I can roll out of bed without a parka and watch flowers bloom instead of just staring at my neighbor’s icicles.

The trees begin to blossom with vibrant flowers, painting the landscape in cheerful colors, while the air becomes filled with the sweet scent of blooming flora. As temperatures rise, people emerge from their winter hibernation, bringing a lively energy to parks and streets, where laughter and joy echo. The days grow longer, allowing us to enjoy more sunlight, engage in outdoor activities, and appreciate the beauty of nature as it awakens from its slumber. Each spring day is a reminder of new beginnings, full of promise and the potential for growth.

I love plopping myself on the front porch or back patio, observing the animals zoom around like they’ve just downed three cups of coffee. It’s like they’re throwing a party to celebrate the fantastic weather, and I’m just the amused spectator at their furry little festival, wondering if I should join in or just stick to my iced tea!

Also, the neighbors are popping out of their homes with that look of triumph that says, “I survived yet another season of winter’s icy embrace—someone give me a trophy and a margarita!”

Welcome to spring and the next six months of sunshine, warmth, and many outdoor activities that bring communities together. Families can enjoy picnics in the park, friends can gather for backyard barbecues, and adventurers can embark on hiking trails to explore breathtaking landscapes. With longer days ahead, there are countless opportunities to soak up the sun, engage in sports, or simply relax outdoors with loved ones, creating unforgettable memories during this vibrant season.

Why I Don’t Want a Tattoo—at over 80, I’m Good Without the Ink.

At over 80 years old, I’ve seen trends come and go quickly, and I don’t want them sticking to me. Tattoos are everywhere these days, like mushrooms after rain, and it seems there’s a parlor on every corner! I heard the tattoo industry could make $4 billion by 2032. My grandkids have tattoos of dragons and quotes, and I respect the art! But when they ask, “Grandpa, why don’t you get one?” I laugh and say, “I don’t want a tattoo, never have, and at my age, I only need ink for my printer.”

Back in my day, tattoos were mostly for sailors, bikers, or those who had been in jail. I served in the Army in ’64 but didn’t get any tattoos like an anchor or “Mom” on my arm because I didn’t see the need. Now, I see younger guys showing off their tattoos and I understand—they use them to express who they are. As for me, I have more than 80 years of life stories; I don’t need tattoos to share them.

And the pain? No thanks, I’ve already got enough aches—my knees creak like an old porch swing, and my back hurts if I sit too long, like a child upset about missing dessert. Why add the pain of a needle to my troubles? I know some say it’s not that bad, but I’ve seen tough guys cringe at rib tattoos as if they saw a spider. I avoided shots as a kid and complained through every flu jab. I’d rather save my toughness for hauling firewood than for enduring a tattoo session—I’m not trying to win a medal in pain tolerance!

But the real kicker? I like me as I am. This weathered hide—scarred from a fall off my bike at 12, wrinkled from summers fishing with my boys—tells its own tale. I don’t need ink to mark where I’ve been. Laugh lines, earned from a lifetime with my Wifes, say plenty. A tattoo wouldn’t add to that—it’d just feel like graffiti on a house I’ve spent decades building.

Choosing not to get one isn’t about being stubborn or old-fashioned; it’s more like a wise old owl saying, “Nah, I’ll pass!” After over 80 years of dodging trends, I’d like to think I’ve earned the right to say, “Thanks, but I’ve got my own vintage style!”

Maybe one day I’ll really throw them off—waltz into a parlor and strut out with a full-sized grizzly bear casually perched on my shoulder, like it’s the latest fashion trend! Just kidding, I’ve grown smarter over the years—no one wants to be known as the person who tried to cuddle a bear. For now, I’m happily twiddling my thumbs with my blank canvas. It’s been my trusty sidekick this whole time. Why on earth would I mess with a good thing when it’s serving me so well?

For most of my life, I have tried to be something I was not, constantly feeling the weight of expectation pressing down on me. Many times, throughout various stages of my life, I heard, “You should be like, whatever name you want to insert,” and it struck a chord of frustration deep within. In my younger years, I repeatedly heard, “You should be more like your brother.” Just because he is five years older than me, does that mean I should mold myself to resemble him? I guess I was a handful when I was young, bursting with energy and enthusiasm that didn’t quite align with the quieter demeanor expected by those around me. Going to school, I faced the same external comparisons; teachers and peers alike would say, “You should be more like Johnny,” who seemed to embody the ideal student. Even at church, I heard confessions about sinfulness, being told that I was a sinner and should strive to be more like the saints and apostles, paragons of virtue and righteousness. Well, I got the picture loud and clear: I should be somebody I am not, contorting my identity in an effort to fit in with the surrounding society. This persistent pressure to conform has woven a complex narrative of identity conflict, leaving me questioning the very essence of who I truly am amidst the cacophony of voices telling me who I should strive to become.

My teenage years were very difficult for me. For some reason, I was angry and mad all the time, often feeling like I was in a constant storm of emotions that I couldn’t control. I hated myself and my situation, feeling trapped in a world that seemed to misunderstand me at every turn. Was it because I was trying to be somebody I was not, desperately seeking approval from peers while losing sight of my true self, or was it just the hormonal change that everyone goes through during that age? The confusion was overwhelming, and every day felt like a new battle. I often wondered if there was a way out of this turmoil or if I was destined to feel this way forever. One will never know, but those memories have shaped the person I am today, reminding me of the struggles that many people face during a pivotal time in their lives.

I was drafted into the army later, and looking back now, I think this is one of the best things that happened to me in that period of my life. During the tumultuous Viet Nam era, I found myself in a unique position; my service period was served in Germany instead of Viet Nam, unlike the seven other men drafted on that day who all went to the frontlines in Viet Nam. Why I went to Germany and not Viet Nam is a mystery I will never fully comprehend. Perhaps fate had a hand in it, guiding my journey toward experiences that would shape my understanding of the world. In the service, you meet all kinds of people from many different areas of the country, each with their own stories and backgrounds, and it was in the midst of this blend of humanity that I began to realize that the human race is not that bad. Those I encountered were basically good, each one simply trying to navigate the myriad challenges in front of them, forging friendships in shared adversity, and teaching me valuable lessons about resilience, camaraderie, and the importance of empathy in a world rife with conflict.

I have spent maybe two thirds of my life trying to be somebody that I am not. You may believe this or not, but, one day I was taking a walk around the greenbelt near our home, a serene place filled with the soft rustle of leaves and the gentle chirping of birds. There was nobody around, and I was just having some silent time to my own, immersed in the peaceful ambiance of nature. Then suddenly, in that moment of stillness, a loud voice came out and spoke. “Tom, stop trying to be somebody else, just be yourself! Your purpose in life is to be yourself!” Those words resonated deeply within me, echoing against the backdrop of my insecurities and fears. After that event, I made a conscious decision to just be myself, fully embracing my flaws and uniqueness rather than masking them behind a façade. Since that transformative day, I have found a profound sense of peace and joy within me, realizing that the journey of self-acceptance can lead to genuine happiness. I even like myself now, embracing my quirks and individuality with pride. This is one significant positive change I have made in my life, and it has opened doors to new connections and experiences that reflect my true self.

When my son was a teenager, he strutted around like he had a PhD in life, firmly believing he had all the answers—spoiler alert: he didn’t! His boundless confidence sometimes had me raising an eyebrow as he made bold choices during those delightful years of chaos. He dabbled in rebellion and curiosity, all while figuring out that adulthood came with a side of responsibility and a pinch of life’s absurd complexities. As he navigated through conflicts, emotional rollercoasters, and the glorious mess of school, I watched him slowly transform into a young man who could actually hold a conversation! I was the supportive ghost in the background, popping up to offer advice when necessary and letting him trip over his own feet—figuratively speaking! Ultimately, he emerged wiser (and slightly less convinced he could conquer the world in one day), with a much clearer view of this hilariously unpredictable world we live in.

Somewhere around twenty-five, he said to me, “Dad, I’m amazed at how much smarter and wiser you’ve become in the last ten years. I often think about the lessons you’ve taught me, from your stories of perseverance to your insights on life and relationships. Your experiences have shaped who you are and greatly influenced my perspective. I hope to carry some of that wisdom into my own life as I enter adulthood and face my challenges. I will remember your encouragement and how you handled obstacles with strength and grace. I want to share these lessons with my future children, as I believe it will help them understand the world and find their own way.”

This was the best compliment I could have ever received. It made my day, lighting up my spirits and filling me with an overwhelming sense of joy and gratitude. Every detail of that moment is etched in my memory; from the warmth of the sun on my skin to the sound of laughter that surrounded me, each element adding to the magic of that experience. I can still recall the smile on the person’s face as they delivered those kind words, a memory so vivid that it feels as though it happened just yesterday. Over the past 25 years, that compliment has remained a guiding light during challenging times, reminding me of the power of kindness and the impact one simple gesture can have on a person’s life. It is a treasured moment that I hold close to my heart, serving as a constant reminder to cherish such uplifting experiences.

I am over eighty years old, and surprise, surprise – I’ve never been on a shopping spree! Honestly, that fact alone tells you more about my childhood than your grandmother’s wild tales. Back in my day, shopping wasn’t a thrilling adventure or a chance to pamper oneself; it was more of a clandestine mission. Armed with a grocery list that would make a soldier proud, we sought out the essentials. We snagged what we needed, nothing extra, and we squeezed every penny like it was on a diet!

A “shopping spree,” in today’s world—meandering through shops, snatching up frivolous items, splurging on whatever catches your eye—was a foreign concept in my upbringing. My family drilled into me the art of budgeting with surgical precision. Every purchase was meticulously calculated. Clothing was stretched to its limit, and significant expenditures were not only debated but often shelved indefinitely. Even as an adult with my own paycheck, the ingrained discipline of buying only what was truly necessary clung to me like a second skin.

Over the decades, I watched the world change. Shopping malls appeared, credit cards became common, and later the internet turned buying into a few clicks. But even with all those changes, the idea of a shopping spree never became part of my life. I stayed rooted in the mindset I learned early on be practical, be thoughtful, and don’t buy more than you need.

Now, peering back through my trusty telescope from the lofty heights of eighty-plus years, it’s quite the chuckle to see how that pattern has danced through my life. We’re not talking about a dramatic saga of deprivation or the horrors of missed opportunities. Nope, it was just how I rolled—guided by some vintage values from yesteryear, where pinching pennies was practically an Olympic sport and “splurging” meant celebrating by getting the slightly fancier brand of coffee, because why not live dangerously?

In a world where shopping sprees are common, even celebrated, my experience stands out as a reminder of how differently generations approach money, possessions, and the idea of “treating yourself.” My life has been full in many ways, but it has never included the moment of walking into a store with the intention of buying whatever I wanted. And that, in its own way, tells a story about who I am and the times that shaped me.

I appreciate my identity and perspective. It is common to encounter reports concerning the nation’s national debt and the burdens individuals bear from their credit card debts. This growing indebtedness requires urgent attention and resolution. We cannot continue on this trajectory without anticipating significant changes to the future of our country.

The question I dread post-retirement is, “What do you do with yourself all day?” As if I need to provide a daily report on my extensive couch lounging and snack devouring! Seriously, after forty years of logging hours and meeting deadlines, I feel like I’ve clocked enough time to earn my honorary degree in ‘Chillin’ 101.’ Give me a break! I don’t owe anyone a detailed itinerary now; I’m entitled to bask in the glorious freedom of retirement. Sure, I might blog about my obsessions, turn my yard into a botanical paradise, or hit up a restaurant just to savor a meal leisurely—because who doesn’t love eating without a frantic countdown? Cleaning? Only if I’m in the mood, and if I get distracted, hey, that’s just a part of my new adventure! Or, I might just do absolutely nothing—reveling in the bliss of doing absolutely nothing. This time is a gift, and I plan to unwrap it however I please, without feeling the need to justify my choices to anyone, not even my plants!

I know it’s just a conversation starter, but for some absurd reason, when someone asks, “What are you doing?” I feel like I’ve been put on trial! This seemingly innocent question makes me feel like I need a PowerPoint presentation to justify my existence or prove that I’m still achieving great things, even in retirement. Hello, I’m retired! My agenda now consists of expertly napping, binge-reading mystery novels, and mastering the fine art of doing absolutely nothing. Yet, that pesky question flips a switch in my brain, and suddenly I’m sweating over how to defend my daily agenda of quality time with my couch and the occasional ice cream binge. It’s like society’s got its invisible scoreboard, and I have to keep scoring points to validate my decision to kick the daily grind to the curb. Why can’t I just “be”? Apparently, I have to present a dazzling tale of busyness and purpose, complete with charts and graphs that show my impressive hobby stats!

My failure that changed my life was my first marriage. Looking back, it was destined to fail. I was 28, recently out of the army and looking for love and a traditional American life of a wife, children and a home to grow old in together. I met a young girl ten years younger than me. I was ready to get married, and she needed a reason to stay in Denver after her beautician training. She had to return to her parents’ farm if she had no reason to stay in Denver. We started dating and that resulted into a marriage six months later. At that time, I had the conviction that any marriage could be worked out if the two involved wanted to make it work. We went to counseling and tried to make it work. However, after eleven years we decided that the marriage was unrepairable. However, that relationship produced two sons that I will always love. My ex and I still are able to talk civil and see each other and not think of violence. The lesson I learned was that there are relationships that no matter what is tried, there is no solution to save the relationship.

That was the moment of failure that changed everything. Yet, through that pain, I met someone who had faced the same heart-wrenching struggle, igniting an extraordinary connection between us. After a decade filled with profound understanding, transformative growth, and unforgettable shared experiences, we united in marriage, and for over forty blissful years, we have thrived together. This union is the dream I held close in my youth, overflowing with love, laughter, and steadfast support. I often share with anyone willing to listen, “my wife is a heavenly gift,” and I truly feel immensely blessed to have this precious second chance to create a vibrant and meaningful relationship—one that not only nourishes my soul but also radiates joy and inspiration to everyone around us. Together, we have weathered life’s storms and savored its triumphs, emerging ever stronger, and I treasure every fleeting moment we are fortunate to share.

“I’ve lived long enough to know that the truth of a life rarely fits into a single sentence, but this is where mine begins.”

My laptop: The Hardworking partner
My laptop is my only partner that never complains or takes breaks and doesn’t question why I’m still not dressed at noon. It has been with me through drafts and rewrites, and there are times I shout, “WHY DID YOU DO THAT?” even though it did nothing wrong.
It’s the only device that knows the real me:

• The me who has 47 tabs open “for later.”
• The me who internet searches things like “how to fix the thing I just broke.”
• The me who swears I’ll organize my files someday. (I won’t.)
  If this laptop ever dies, I’m going with it.

My Smartphone: The Pocket-Sized Chaos Manager
My phone is essential to my life. It’s my camera, calendar, flashlight, weather app, GPS, alarm clock, entertainment system, and sometimes my therapist (“why am I like this?” searched at 1 a.m.).
I check for it every time I leave the house: Keys? Wallet? Phone?
If I forget something, I’ll manage.
But if I lose my phone, I worry it has been stolen by raccoons.

The Internet: My Invisible Roommate
The internet is a roommate who doesn’t pay rent but shapes the whole mood of the house. When it works, everything is great. When it doesn’t, I find myself unplugging and replugging devices like I’m trying to save them.
Honestly,
The internet is where I work, play, learn, procrastinate, and get lost in searches like “What happened to that actor from that show I watched in 1998?”
Without it, I’d have to depend on my own memory, which isn’t reliable.

Why I Can’t Live Without Them (And I’m Not Even Sorry)
These devices are essential to my daily life. They help me write, connect, navigate, and stay somewhat organized.
I could try to live without them, but I’d rather not. I’m not suited for the wilderness, let alone low battery mode.

The Truth
I don’t need these devices because I’m addicted.
I need them because they’re how I move through the world—how I create, communicate, and keep track of everything from birthdays to grocery lists to the name of that actor from that show in 1998.
In our fast-paced society, these tools have become essential extensions of ourselves, allowing us to navigate daily life with greater ease and efficiency.
They’re not merely gadgets; they’re co‑stars, seamlessly integrating into my routine and enhancing my ability to connect with loved ones, pursue my passions, and manage my responsibilities.
With every notification that pops up, there’s an opportunity for interaction and a reminder of the people and experiences that enrich my life, emphasizing the importance of these devices in shaping my modern existence.

I am over eighty and I may be wrong about this, but I believe these items have helped me keep my brain active and have significantly contributed to slowing down the advance of dementia. Engaging in activities that challenge my thinking, such as puzzles, reading, and even learning new skills, has proven beneficial over the years. My old philosophy is, if you don’t use it, you lose it, and I take this to heart daily. Each day presents an opportunity for mental exercise, whether it’s through social interactions, playing memory games with friends, or even simply reflecting on my life experiences. Staying mentally stimulated is not only a way to maintain my cognitive function but also a source of joy and fulfillment in my twilight years.

It was early 1964. I held a stable position and felt a sense of security within my daily routine. Just a year prior, I had acquired a striking red two-door car that drew the attention of others. My life was filled with excitement, aspirations, and potential. I was in search of love, contemplating a future partnership, and my modest savings afforded me a sense of financial independence. However, in February, I received a letter that altered the course of my life: “You have been selected to join the United States Army.” I had been drafted. This unexpected development compelled me to reevaluate my plans and confront an uncertain future.

In March 1964, I took the oath and boarded a train bound for Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri, to undertake basic combat training. Following several rigorous months, I successfully completed my training in July and received orders for advanced individual training at Fort Huachuca, Arizona, where I would acquire critical skills for my designated role. By November, I found myself at Fort Dix, New Jersey, preparing to embark on a ship to Bremerhaven, Germany. The journey was lengthy, yet I ultimately arrived and proceeded to Nuremberg to report to the 2nd Armored Cavalry Regiment. This assignment held significant weight, as I was tasked with the crucial responsibility of patrolling the border between Germany and Czechoslovakia during a particularly precarious period in history.

In March 1966, I received orders to return to Fort Hamilton, New York, where I was formally discharged from the Army, signifying a significant transition in my life. Upon returning home to Denver, I was subsequently assigned to the 244th Engineer Battalion at the Rocky Mountain Arsenal. This assignment required me to fulfill a two-year commitment in the Army Reserve while concurrently managing my civilian responsibilities. After completing my active reserve period, I obtained my discharge; however, I was still obligated to two additional years in inactive reserve. Throughout the tumultuous Vietnam era, a pervasive sense of uncertainty loomed, as we faced the possibility of our unit being called back to active duty. Fortunately, I did not receive deployment orders, which permitted me to concentrate on my personal aspirations and future endeavors.

This experience significantly contributed to my personal growth and broadened my understanding of human diversity. The most impactful aspect was engaging with individuals from varied backgrounds. I encountered people from different regions of the country and diverse nationalities, each possessing distinct narratives and insights that deepened my comprehension of the world. This immersion in various cultures equipped me with essential skills that have been advantageous in both personal and professional contexts. I consider it the most pivotal experience of my life, as it taught me to recognize and appreciate differences while finding commonalities. I realized that, fundamentally, most individuals are inherently good, striving to navigate challenging circumstances to enhance their lives and those of their loved ones.

If I had to do it over again, I would have wholeheartedly embraced being myself instead of conforming to the expectations set by others around me—so many times I heard phrases like, “you need to be more like your brother or like Johnny down the street.” Each time, I felt the pressure to change who I was to fit a mold that simply didn’t represent me. I spent many years of my life trying to emulate someone else, desperately seeking approval and validation, instead of being true to my own identity and values. It took me a long time to realize that the unique qualities that make me who I am are far more valuable than any imitation of someone else. The journey to self-acceptance has been long and sometimes painful, but ultimately, it has taught me the importance of authenticity and the strength that comes from embracing my individuality.

A short time after I retired about twenty years ago, I was taking a peaceful walk around the greenbelt, enjoying the fresh air and the gentle rustle of leaves. The only things around me were the soothing sounds of the creek, the winding pathway beneath my feet, and some waist-high foliage that danced in the breeze. Suddenly, from nowhere, this profound voice emerged, echoing through my mind, and said, “Tom, just be yourself! Stop trying to be somebody you are not. You were created to be you, so, just be yourself.” It felt like a life-altering revelation that struck me with clarity. This was an eye-opening experience, one that made me reflect deeply on my life choices and the masks I had worn for so long. Since then, I have actively decided to embrace my true self, shedding all the pretenses I had been carrying. I have stopped trying to be someone I am not, and in doing so, I have uncovered a sense of freedom and authenticity that was previously hidden away. I am so much happier now being myself instead of being somebody that I thought would be better than just me; I cherish the person I am, no longer bound by the expectations of others or the fear of judgment. Each step I take in this newfound authenticity brings me closer to a fulfilling and genuine life, filled with peace and contentment.

THEREFORE, JUST BE YOURSELF!

Before the best gift I had to go through a period of time with what I call my practice wife, a relationship that taught me invaluable lessons about love, commitment, and self-discovery. This experience, though not perfect, was filled with moments of laughter and challenges that ultimately shaped my understanding of what I truly wanted in a partner. I navigated the highs of shared dreams and the lows of misunderstandings, all of which were essential in preparing me for the incredible joy that was to come. It was during this time that I learned to appreciate the little things in relationships, recognizing the importance of communication and respect, setting the foundation for a healthier future. I knew something was missing in this relationship, but I thought it would be overpowered but it was not. However, this relationship gave me my second-best gift, two sons that I truly love and very thankful that they are a part of my life.

The best gift I ever received was my second wife. We have been together for over forty years, and this trip is one you hear about in the fairy tales. I wasn’t even looking for a wife. I was mourning and repairing from my first eleven-year marriage that came to a shocking end in divorce. I met Dee, my second wife in a divorce support group. We talked, we cried, we shared our hurts and this openness grew into a strong lasting marriage of over forty years. The following years were periods of fun, overseas trips with vacations in many parts of the states. I came from a small family and Dee came from a family of many relatives. She gave me a family I wished for many times. Also, because of her I was blessed with four stepchildren, two boys and two girls. I love them just like my biological sons. It has been a trip and feel very blessed. Every night before I go to sleep, I thank God for giving me the gift of Dee, the best gift I ever received.

I asked AI on this subject. Here is its answer.

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A solid budgeting approach doesn’t have to feel restrictive or joyless. The best systems are simple, repeatable, and flexible enough to survive real life. Here’s a framework that works for a lot of people because it balances clarity with freedom.

A Practical, Sustainable Approach to Budgeting

1. Start with your real numbers, not ideal ones

• List your monthly take‑home income.
• Write down your actual expenses from the last 2–3 months (bank statements help).
• This gives you a baseline that reflects how you actually live, not how you think you should.

2. Use the “50–30–20” structure as a guide, not a rule

This is a simple way to see if your spending is balanced:

• 50% Needs — housing, utilities, groceries, insurance, transportation
• 30% Wants — dining out, hobbies, entertainment
• 20% Savings/Debt payoff — emergency fund, retirement, extra payments

You don’t have to hit these numbers exactly; they’re just a compass.

3. Assign every dollar a job

This is the core idea behind zero‑based budgeting:

• Income minus expenses equals zero.
• You’re not trying to spend everything — you’re giving every dollar a purpose, whether that’s bills, savings, or fun.

It creates clarity and reduces that “where did my money go” feeling.

4. Build a small buffer

Life throws curveballs. A $100–$300 monthly buffer for surprises keeps your budget from collapsing the first time a tire blows or a bill is higher than expected.

5. Track lightly, adjust weekly

You don’t need to micromanage every purchase.

• Check in once a week.
• Move money between categories if needed.
• Adjust as life changes.

A budget is a living document, not a contract.

6. Automate what you can

• Automatic transfers to savings
• Automatic bill payments
• Automatic retirement contributions

Automation removes friction and protects your goals from impulse decisions.

7. Keep it aligned with your values

A budget works best when it reflects what matters to you:

• If travel is important, budget for it.
• If you love books, give yourself a book fund.
• If you’re saving for a project or publication, build that in.

A budget that honors your priorities is one you’ll actually stick with.

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I am just a mere mortal. Born in the early forties, went to high school, graduated, drafted into the army, married twice, 2 sons, worked for over 40 years, retired 20 years ago.

It has been a good life and learning experience. More good times than bad times. I do not regret or feel guilty about anything I did. I am close to the final chapter and waiting for PEACE, TOTAL PEACE!

Both of my parents at the age I am now are enjoying PEACE, TOTAL PEACE. They have cultivated a serene environment filled with joy and tranquility, surrounded by the warmth of family and the comfort of cherished memories. This peace stems not only from the stability they have built over the years but also from the understanding and love that binds us together. Each day is a reminder of the importance of mindfulness and the simple pleasures in life, such as listening to the soothing sound of nature outside their window or sharing laughter during family gatherings. It’s a time for reflection, gratitude, and the pursuit of new passions, as they relish the freedom that comes from years of hard work and dedication.

First, my mother was stricken with bone cancer, a cruel diagnosis that shattered our lives and turned our world upside down. Despite her bravery and fierce spirit, she passed away when she was 75, leaving behind a legacy of love, strength, and unwavering support that continues to inspire me every day. Her battle against the illness was filled with moments of hope and despair, but through it all, she taught us the importance of family, resilience, and cherishing every moment we have together.

Three years later, my father unexpectedly had a heart attack and passed away when he was 75, leaving our family in a state of profound shock and grief. His passing shattered the sense of security we had felt, as he was not only a loving father but also a pillar of strength and wisdom in our lives. We had always taken for granted the countless stories he shared, the advice he offered in times of trouble, and the warmth of his presence at family gatherings. In the aftermath of his sudden departure, we struggled to come to terms with our loss, reminiscing about cherished memories while grappling with the emptiness left behind.

When I turned 75, I wondered many times if I would follow their legacy, reflecting on the footsteps they left behind and the wisdom they imparted. As I reached this milestone, the memories of their achievements and the values they instilled resonated deeply within me, prompting questions about my own path. Here I am over 80, looking back with a sense of nostalgia and realization that I did not follow the legacy, not out of defiance but rather because I forged my own journey, one shaped by different circumstances and choices, filled with unique experiences that diverged from their expectations.

I often find myself lost in thoughts of Mom and Dad as I traverse the winding path of my life, reflecting on the countless lessons and priceless experiences you have bestowed upon me. Your unwavering love and guidance have been my North Star, helping me navigate the intricate tapestry of life. I cherish the beautiful memories we’ve woven together, from moments around the dinner table to our family adventures. My heart swells with love for you, and I eagerly await the day my journey reaches its end, determined to carry forward the values you instilled in me, making you proud every step of the way.

I’ll admit it right up front: I am addicted to M&M’s dark chocolate, and I’m not the least bit ashamed. In fact, I wear that addiction like a badge of honor. Some people unwind with a glass of wine, others with a good cigar — me, I reach for that familiar big bag of dark chocolate M&M’s, the one that rattles with the promise of comfort, nostalgia, and just the right amount of indulgence.
My love affair with these colorful little gems began the moment the dark chocolate variety was announced. I had always enjoyed the classic milk chocolate version, but dark chocolate. That was a whole new level of temptation. Richer, deeper, smoother — it was as if someone had finally understood what my taste buds had been trying to say for years. And from that moment on, I was hooked.
Of course, part of the charm of M&M’s has always been that unforgettable slogan: “M&M’s melt in your mouth, not in your hand.” As a kid, I believed that line with the same faith I reserved for Saturday morning cartoons. As an adult, I appreciate it even more. There’s something wonderfully reassuring about a candy that promises not to betray you with sticky fingers or chocolate smudges. It’s a small thing, but small things matter — especially when they come coated in a candy shell.
What many people don’t realize is that M&M’s weren’t born in a candy factory for kids. They were born on the battlefield. During World War II, soldiers needed chocolate that could survive heat, travel, and the chaos of combat. Regular chocolate bars melted too easily, so the idea of a hard candy shell was developed to protect the chocolate inside. Practical, clever, and delicious — a trifecta of innovation. The soldiers got their chocolate fix, and the world got a treat that would outlive the war by generations.
Knowing that history makes my dark chocolate M&M’s feel like more than just a snack. They’re a tiny piece of ingenuity, a reminder that even in the hardest times, people find ways to create something comforting. And maybe that’s why they’ve stuck with me all these years. They’re simple, yes, but they carry a story — one that stretches from wartime necessity to modern‑day delight.
Every time I tear open a bag, I’m reminded of that blend of creativity and practicality that gave us one of the world’s most beloved candies. And every time I pop a handful into my mouth, I’m reminded why I keep coming back. They’re familiar. They’re satisfying. They’re a small, colorful moment of joy in a world that doesn’t always hand those out freely.

There are people who pass through our lives quietly, almost without effort, and yet they leave an imprint that lasts far longer than we ever expect. I served with someone like that—steady, good‑natured, the kind of person you don’t forget even when the years start piling up. After our time in the service, he went back to his hometown in upstate New York and stepped into the construction company his father had built. It was the sort of life that fit him: familiar streets, honest work, a place where he belonged.

When his father died, he took over the business. I always imagined him doing well, carrying on the family name, maybe raising a family of his own. Life moved me forward, and I assumed it moved him forward too. We lost touch, as people often do, and I told myself I’d look him up someday.

A few years ago, I finally did. Just a simple internet search—nothing more than a moment of curiosity mixed with nostalgia. I expected to find a business listing or maybe a photo from a local event. Instead, I found an obituary. He had died in an auto accident about eight years earlier. A drunk driver hit him head‑on. He never regained consciousness.

I sat there staring at the screen, feeling the weight of all the time that had slipped by unnoticed. It wasn’t guilt exactly, but something quieter and heavier—a recognition that I had let a good person drift out of my life without ever meaning to. And now the chance to reconnect was gone.

Moments like that have a way of shifting your perspective. They remind you that life isn’t just about the big milestones or the dramatic turns. It’s also about the people who walked beside you for a while, the ones who mattered even if you didn’t realize how much at the time. They remind you to reach out when someone crosses your mind, to say the thing you’ve been meaning to say, to appreciate the connections that make the journey feel less solitary.

Time moves in only one direction, but reflection lets us honor the people who shaped us along the way. Even the ones we never got to say goodbye to.

A long, long time ago—specifically in 1994, when dinosaurs roamed the Earth—I took the plunge and bought my very first computer. I snagged it from a coworker who supposedly built computers from scratch, though I think he just glued some wood together and hoped for the best. If my memory serves me right (and it’s been known to play tricks), I forked over a whopping $700 for this techno marvel. Comparing that ancient relic to today’s gadgets is like comparing a bicycle to a rocket ship! The highlight back then? Oh, just charmingly efficient waits for the computer to process things—because who doesn’t love a good suspenseful pause in their life?

Windows 3.1 was the operating system, and let me tell you, it was about as slick as a greased pig on a hot day! The transfer system? A floppy disk, of course—because who doesn’t love playing “guess which way is up?” with a piece of plastic? This bad boy could hold less than 500 kilobits; that’s right, kilobits, not even megabytes—a time when everyone shared programs like they were passing around a plate of cookies. Copyright laws? Pfft! Totally useless! “Hey Joe, I snagged this new program; want a copy?” It had a whopping 2 megabytes of RAM—impressive if you were a computer from the Stone Age! Gigabyte memories were just a twinkle in the future’s eye, and the hard drive was a paltry chunk of space under 1000 megabytes. USB or thumb drives? What a dream! We were just grateful if our computer didn’t spontaneously combust when booting up. Oh, how spoiled we have become!

You’ve got yourself a computer, but wait—what’s missing? A printer! Because, of course, you need to print out those emails no one reads. Now, you’ve added a printer, but oops! More memory for the printer means your computer is slower than a snail in molasses. But hey, why stop there? Let’s throw in a flatbed scanner! Great idea, right? More memory required! Now your computer is moving at a tortoise’s pace. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, the delightful era of combination printer/scanners rolls in, making your tech woes feel like a sitcom episode!

To be a computer guru back in the day, you needed a modem—oh yes, the good old days of the snazzy 32k modems, which were basically the F1 race cars of the time. But then, like a hero in a cheesy 80s movie, the revolutionary 64k modem burst onto the scene! Forget Wi-Fi; we were tethered to our phone lines like we were in some kind of tech prison. You’d dial up, sit back, and embark on the thrilling adventure of waiting—waiting, waiting, and oh, more waiting! And let’s not forget the charm of watching your computer slowly transform into a sluggish dinosaur, as all that nostalgia gobbled up your memory like it was an all-you-can-eat buffet!

If I remember correctly, I clung to this computer like it was my lifeline until after Y2K — because let’s be honest, most tech from back then was about as prepared for the year 2000 as I was for my first date! I can’t quite recall how they fixed that whole “catastrophic doom” situation, but I do remember the panic rivaling a toddler without their snack. Since my first computer, I’ve lost track of how many new ones I’ve bought in the last 30 years — definitely over ten, because clearly, my love for technology rivals my love for pizza! Most of them have been Dell or HP, but one relative had an Acer that seemed to enjoy testing their patience more than anything else. I’d pick Dell over HP any day, but I can’t comment on Apple — never had one, so it’s like judging a book by its cover… or maybe its shiny logo. Now we’ve got tablets, iPads, smartphones, smart TVs, and a whole universe of gadgets that make desktop computers feel like yesterday’s news. I wouldn’t be surprised if one day they take desktop towers out back for a quiet retirement; the sales are dropping faster than my motivation to exercise!

On my ancient relic of a computer back in 1994, there existed a magical financial sorcery tool known as Quicken. I became so attached to it that I probably needed a support group! Despite its many makeovers over the years, it still feels like an old friend—albeit one that occasionally needs a nap. I’ve endured everything from hard drive meltdowns to viral invasions, from hardware that thinks it’s a piece of modern art to software that’s gone rogue, and let’s not forget the countless moments of “Oops, I’m out of memory!” It’s been a wild and whimsical ride through the wonderfully chaotic world of computers!

With the rise of AI, I can totally picture a future where all you have to do is think about a topic, and voila! The trusty AI whips up a masterpiece, saves it, and sends it to all your friends and enemies while you kick back, sip your coffee, and embrace your inner couch potato. Who knew procrastination could get so high-tech?

First of all, to win the lottery, you have to play the lottery. I don’t play the lottery. I can’t remember the last time I threw away money to buy a lottery ticket, as I’ve always been skeptical about the whole concept. I have many friends and relatives that faithfully purchase lottery tickets every week, entrusting their hopes and dreams to a few overpriced scraps of paper. Has anyone won? Not that I know of, although I often hear tales of near misses and “What ifs” that keep the spirit alive. When the lottery first started, I played the scam, intrigued by the excitement it promised, only to realize that the odds were heavily stacked against us. I think the most numbers I ever got was two, which convinced me that the chances are slim next to none. Many of my friends celebrate the anticipation of the draw and share their “winning strategies,” yet deep down, I wonder if they truly believe they’ll succeed or if they’re simply chasing a fleeting dream. Despite the initial thrill, I find comfort in my decision to abstain, choosing instead to invest my time and energy into pursuits that hold far more promise and fulfillment.

Therefore, theoretically if I ever won millions I would disappear and change my life totally. First, I would acquire legal advice and a financial advisor, carefully selecting professionals who genuinely prioritize my best interests and have a track record of guiding clients through such life-altering transitions. I have heard that these multimillionaires suddenly have relatives come out of the woodwork and friends that you haven’t heard or seen from for years; this thought fills me with a sense of caution, as I want people to be around me for who I am, not what I have, valuing authentic relationships over superficial connections. Charities and good causes would get a portion of my good fortune, as it’s essential to me to give back to the community and contribute to meaningful projects that promote welfare and growth. In doing so, I hope to support initiatives that focus on education, healthcare, and environmental conservation, which I believe are fundamental to a thriving society. The largest concern I have is whether I will be any happier or complete than what I am now; the pursuit of wealth often appears glamorous, yet I wonder if it would bring fulfillment or merely a new set of challenges and expectations. Ultimately, it’s the relationships I foster and the impact I leave behind that will define my true wealth, rather than the amount in my bank account.

My life has been full and rewarding, marked by a rich tapestry of experiences that have shaped me into who I am today. I am in my seasoned years and have had more good things and people than bad events, which has instilled in me a deep sense of gratitude. No, I am not rich in the conventional sense, with extravagant possessions or vast wealth. I am just a mere mortal who values the simple joys of life, living comfortably, happily, and cultivating relationships that would be hard to replace. Each friendship I have nurtured, each moment of laughter shared, adds a unique layer to my existence that cannot be quantified. It would be a tough job for those millions to replace what I have now, as the connections I cherish are irreplaceable and timeless. Therefore, with a heart full of appreciation, I do not intend to start playing the lottery anytime soon, for I already possess a fortune far greater than money can buy.

I was born and raised in Denver, Colorado. Except for a couple of years in the army, I have lived in the Denver Metro area for over eighty years, watching the city grow and change over the decades. During my school years, field trips to this iconic attraction were always a highlight, filled with excitement and wonder about what we would learn. This incredible place, drawing close to 500,000 visitors a year, stands as a testament to both history and community engagement. Established in 1862, it has become a cherished part of Denver’s identity, and remarkably, there are only five of its kind in the entire nation. For a period of time, I worked at a place that was only a block away, making it all the more interesting as I would often pass by. I don’t know how many times I have driven by it, each time feeling a tug in my heart and thinking, “I need to go there.” Have you figured it out?

The answer is: The Denver United States Mint

Many babies are named after the father, a relative, or a close family friend, continuing a long-held tradition that signifies respect and familial ties. The trend these days, however, appears to be shifting towards names that are less conventional, often inspired by unique qualities or personal stories. Parents are embracing more distinctive names such as Ace, April, Fable, Huxley, and many others, reflecting a desire for individuality and creativity in their children’s identities. This growing preference for uncommon names might also stem from a cultural fascination with storytelling and the hope that these names will carry a special significance as the children grow. As such, the landscape of baby naming is evolving, offering a rich variety of options that move beyond traditional norms and invite a new era of identity formation.

I popped into this world just four months after Pearl Harbor, smack dab in the middle of World War II, a time when families were mostly wondering if they should have invested in a bunker instead of a backyard garden. So, I decided to ask my parents who I was named after, especially since my older brother was named after my dad—talk about family traditions feeling like a heavyweight title! They launched into a story that made me feel nostalgic—and slightly baffled. Apparently, they were grappling with a name crisis during wartime, trying to avoid the pressure of “Hey, kid, what’s your name?” At some point, they discovered a local newspaper listing freshly drafted soldiers, which was like scrolling through a tragic feed where the heroes were just regular Joes. They combed through the list with all the seriousness of someone choosing a pizza topping and stumbled upon the name Thomas Lee, which sounded classy enough to stick. So there I was, named after a distant guy who might have faced more dilemmas than just “pepperoni or sausage” on a Friday night. If this story is true, who knows? Family legends often mix reality with a sprinkle of imagination. Just like you’ll never know if I’m spinning this yarn for website traffic, leaving me to muse about how names hold the weight of history while dodging the actual history lesson!

I am beyond a dream job, having dedicated my life to a fulfilling career that I truly enjoyed. However, I have been retired for over twenty years now, where the days blend into a serene routine filled with leisure and activities that bring me joy. Now, I dream of staying healthy, as I understand that maintaining vitality is essential to fully enjoy this chapter of my life. I find hope in my financial situation, carefully planned and managed, with the aspiration that it will outlast me, allowing me to travel, indulge in hobbies, and spend quality time with loved ones in comfort and peace.

A long time ago I had a dream job in mind. When I entered junior high school, now they call middle school, I was put in what they called an accelerated class. This was composed of kids that was in the top ranking of the proficiency tests they gave us, a distinction that filled me with pride and motivation. At that time, I loved science class, especially chemistry, where the wonders of chemical reactions fascinated me endlessly. My friend and I stayed after school and helped the science teacher around the lab and classroom, eagerly soaking up as much knowledge as we could. The thrill of mixing substances and observing their transformations ignited a passion in me, and my dream job then was to become either a chemist or an engineer, professions that promised to challenge my intellect and creativity. Towards the end of ninth grade, they gave us a standardized test that was supposed to inform us what kind of career to pursue, a test I approached with excitement and anticipation. The results came back, and much to my dismay, chemistry or engineering was not on my list of careers, leaving me confused and questioning my future. This shattered me, my dream was destroyed, leaving a void that I struggled to fill. I continued to high school with a heavy heart, and as my motivation dwindled, I barely graduated from high school, feeling as though I had lost my way in a world that seemed to offer no place for my ambitions.

For the next forty-five years, I had a job, navigating through the ups and downs of the professional world. Some jobs were not only good but also high-paying positions that provided financial security, while others were merely survival jobs, keeping me afloat during tougher times. Between 1987 and 1991, I encountered the most challenging financial period of my life, marked by economic instability and uncertainty. During this time, I was laid off from my well-paying job, which was a devastating blow, especially as unemployment rates soared to seven and a half percent. The struggle to find new employment was daunting; it took over four long years before I could secure a decent job that offered both stability and a sense of purpose. Despite the abundance of opportunities that came my way, none of them matched my vision of a dream job, leaving me yearning for something more fulfilling. However, after years of hard work and perseverance, I am now retired and find satisfaction in my current situation, appreciating the lessons learned and the journey that has brought me to this point in life.

I do have a new dream though, that is to have many subscribers and followers who read and enjoy my ramblings, connecting with them through shared thoughts and ideas. I envision a vibrant community where each interaction sparks engaging conversations, encouraging different perspectives and fostering a sense of belonging among like-minded individuals. It excites me to think about the stories I’ll share and the inspiration they’ll bring to others, creating a ripple effect of positivity and creativity as we explore topics close to our hearts together.

Out of curiosity I asked Copilot the question. Here is the answer I received.

There’s a lot of conversation these days about whether AI is meant to lead us or simply follow our commands, but the truth is far less dramatic and far more human. AI doesn’t dream up a vision for the future or rally people toward a cause. It also doesn’t trail behind, waiting for orders like a loyal apprentice. Instead, it acts as a kind of amplifier—quiet, steady, and surprisingly revealing. Whatever intention we bring to it, AI magnifies. If we approach it with curiosity, it expands our thinking. If we bring creativity, it opens new doors. If we lead with care, it helps us build more thoughtfully. In that way, AI becomes a mirror, reflecting the kind of leaders we choose to be. And maybe that’s the real opportunity here: not to wonder whether technology will take the lead, but to recognize how much power we still hold in shaping the tone, direction, and heart of the world we’re building.

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Then asked Gemini the same question. Here is Gemini’s response.

A good leader is often defined not by their title or authority, but by their ability to influence, inspire, and empower others to achieve a shared goal.¹ In the modern world, leadership has shifted from “command and control” to a more human-centered and agile approach.

Here is a breakdown of the core pillars that make an effective leader today.

1. Emotional Intelligence

EQ is widely considered the most critical trait for modern leaders. It involves more than just being “nice”; it is the strategic management of emotions.

• Self-Awareness: Understanding your own strengths, weaknesses, and emotional triggers.
• Empathy: The ability to see things from a team member’s perspective, which builds deep trust and psychological safety.
• Regulation: Staying calm and decisive under pressure rather than reacting impulsively.

2. Vision and Strategic Foresight

A leader provides the “North Star.” Without a clear destination, a team is just busy, not productive.

• Clarity: Translating complex goals into actionable steps that everyone understands.
• Purpose: Connecting daily tasks to a larger “why,” which is a primary driver of employee retention.
• Adaptability: Having a vision for the future while being humble enough to pivot when market conditions or technologies (like AI) change.

3. Integrity and Accountability

Trust is the currency of leadership. It is earned through consistency between words and actions.

• Leading by Example: Never asking the team to do something you aren’t willing to do yourself.
• Owning Mistakes: A good leader takes the blame when things go wrong and gives away the credit when things go right.
• Transparency: Being honest about challenges rather than hiding them, which fosters a culture of openness.

4. Empowerment and Delegation

Great leaders don’t create followers; they create more leaders.

• Trust: Giving team members the autonomy to own their work without micromanaging.
• Coaching: Shifting from “telling people what to do” to “asking the right questions” to help them find the solution themselves.
• Inclusivity: Actively seeking out diverse perspectives to avoid “groupthink” and drive innovation.

5. Modern Technical Fluency

In 2026, leadership also requires Digital Fluency. This doesn’t mean you need to be a coder, but you must understand how to leverage emerging technologies—like Generative AI and remote collaboration tools—to improve your team’s efficiency and wellbeing.

What do you think of the responses?