Point of No Return
There aren’t many things that genuinely frighten me.
Though this will probably come as a great surprise to my loyal readers (Hi, Mom!), I made a bit of a wisecrack the other day about the recent spell of cold weather we’ve been experiencing.
In response, someone asked me if I wouldn’t miss the changing seasons if I packed up my toys and moved to a shack on the equator, escaping the chilly winters forever while learning the traditions and culture of the gentle equator people (I know. Don’t email me. It was a joke, folks.)
Regardless, her question reminded me of a simpler time in my life — before marriage, fatherhood and Netflix — when I first moved to California. It was about a week before the Washington Redskins played the Buffalo Bills in the Super Bowl, and the temperature was about 65 degrees, from what I remember. At that time, I thought I had found the happiest place on earth.
There were beautiful people everywhere I turned. Everybody’s cars were sparkling clean, unencumbered by the ravages of road salt or that slushy disgusting stuff that makes it into our wheel wells every winter. And the climate was amazing. The only thing... Sorry. I got distracted. It’s just so weird to think about a Super Bowl featuring the Washington Redskins and Buffalo Bills. I mean, Toilet Bowl, sure, but Super Bowl? The Redskins and Bills? It’s like two slow-witted pigs waging battle on Final Jeopardy for all...
But I digress.
I loved that first winter in California, and weather was a major part of that affection. The summer came around, and that was another great part of living there. It got a bit warmer. I attended a ton of baseball games. And I made a good friend who was also from the East Coast, so we went on various explorations to enjoy all the Golden State had to offer. It was truly a great time.
However, after spending about two years there, it hit me that I missed the changing of the seasons. The leaves didn’t turn color. We never really hit my beloved “sweater weather.” And there was never a two- or three-week period where you could see the flowers all spring to life at once. Indeed, I missed the seasons.
But I feel that it’s important to note that I never mentioned that I missed standing thigh-deep in a snow drift while I moved and scraped snow and ice off my car to go to work in the morning. Nor did I mention that I missed trying to have a conversation with someone outside while we both did disgusting things to the sleeves of our coats to prevent disgusting things from rolling down our respective faces during said conversation. And I know for a fact that I never missed putting on boots, a hat, gloves and seven layers of clothing to take out the trash, then having to take them all off again as soon as I walked back in the door for fear of creating a Slip ’N Slide in the hallway when later walking in my socks.
So, yeah, I did miss the changing of the seasons, but I would have been happy with a changing of just three seasons.
Sometimes, things make me smile which probably shouldn’t make me smile.
One of the most fascinating elements of life is the fact that we are all presented with challenges and circumstances throughout our respective durations that offer us opportunities to learn, if we choose to pay attention and take heed.
Waking up Tuesday morning to a car that was not covered in a blanket of snow was more than just a little bit of a relief. For one thing, I was worried the night before about some of our employees who have to travel a pretty significant distance to get to work. For another, I was concerned that I was going to have to dig my way out of a coccoon of snow.
A recent article in the Washington Post cited a paper published last week in the Journal Science by 18 researchers trying to gauge the breaking points in the natural world.
This was to be a piece on the freedom of speech.
As the clock wound down on the Baltimore Ravens’ playoff win over the rival Pittsburgh Steelers last weekend, two truths entered my mind immediately.
Well, it’s time to put another year in the proverbial rearview and set our sights ahead to the wonders that await us in 2015.
This has become an annual trek into the absurd.
There was a time in my life when the single most important thing in my entire existence was a Mattel handheld electronic football game.
A Senate report released this week on the CIA’s interrogation program of suspected terrorists during the tenure of former-President George W. Bush has generated a few emotions, to say the least.
With Christmas, comes anxiety.
We had a tradition around the McCann family table every Thanksgiving.
As a kid, I remember watching the old black-and-white movies in which a husband would be pacing in a smoke-filled waiting room while his wife gave birth to the couple’s baby. The man would then get his first glance at his offspring through a glass window, as a joyous nurse would weave her way through a maze of bassinets and point out his baby.
Up is down. Day is night. And dogs and cats are playing together. Yes, indeed, my life has been flipped upside down, and I couldn’t possibly be any happier.
On Tuesday, Nov. 11, bands will play, speeches will be read out loud and veterans of most ages, genders, faiths and ethnicities will be celebrated for the one thing they all have very much in common — at some point in their respective lives, they put on a uniform of the Armed Forces of the United States of America and they made a pledge to defend this nation and her allies.
Who wouldn’t want an extra $25,000 a year? For life.
Well, to be fair, it’s for 20 years, but the name of the game hosted by the Massachusetts Lottery is “Lucky for Life,” so let’s stick with the “life” concept for now. Besides, none of us really know when that final curtain will drop, so 20 years might indeed be a factual statement. In fact, if I could sign a contract right now that guaranteed me another 20 years and...
I love a good statistic.
Not one of those “I’m-trying-to-prove-a-point-so-I’ll-pull-something-out-my-backside-that’s-almost-pertinent” statistics. I mean the ones that either truly tell a story, cause me to think about things in a different way or, quite simply, make me laugh.
Nothing beats fall.
The Orioles have that “something” about them.
There’s a slight chance I have the best job in the world.
One of the joys of watching crime dramas on television or in the movies is the cat-and-mouse game often played between a brilliant criminal and the detectives who eventually get out in front of the evil mastermind through a combination of hard work and a bit of cleverness of their own.
Hey, look at that. The Orioles don’t stink anymore.
It had to be a startling scene for anyone who happened to pass by the park on that summer morning in 1979.
Have you ever been isolated with an over-anxious child?
Labor Day weekend.
Those three words alone can generate a plethora of emotions across the board. They actually work together to constitute one word in our reality, joining “Memorial Day weekend” and “Fourth of July” as the sacred trinity of important summer benchmarks for our community — the beginning, the heart and the end of another summer season.
I’m a bit of a news hound.
When one is in elementary school, opportunities to express one’s individuality are few and far between.
Sometimes, it is the smallest gesture that can have the greatest impact.