In a few days the children’s mother and I are at a marriage retreat. It’s our first since I can’t remember when. The invitation, by fluke, came a day after I was propositioned to have an affair. Now, in this space, I don’t talk much about it, sex and all. This is because Mennonites didn’t even know what sex was until 1985,
"I see you're aging gracefully." This is what he, an old Canadian friend, now overseas, said after seeing my photo complete with beard and glasses. Oh, come on. Already? Now? So soon? Aging gracefully? Really? In truth, the beard comes and goes like pages of a calendar. I shave. I don't shave. My bride, that is my young looking wife, comments on this.
Today’s rumination is about the art of writing. Cursive. For the children out there, you’ll want to ask your parents or grandparents what this is, and how it all works, and why on God’s good earth anyone would involve themselves in it. I feel like a Neanderthal for even mentioning it, but since I’m older than I look I’ll tell you that when I
Today we’re going to talk about the boy. Child #2. My son. You may have a boy also. And if he hasn’t yet put his head inside the open mouth of an alligator, then, well, congratulations. My boy announced recently that he’s going to jump from a plane.
One day Adam woke up and looked around and the place was his. He saw the animals. “Lion,” he said, in a manner of speaking. Then “lamb.” And so forth. They all had good relationships. They were at peace, lying around together. It was Eden.
It’s been the never ending birthday for our youngest, Hannah, who needs little introduction. She’s the girl who gets in the papers when she becomes a Canadian citizen, the girl who honestly give thanks for her life (and for bypassing the other life she could have had), the girl who Providence shines on in the [...]
Today’s offering is about Donald Trump. If you have limited time, please instead read this piece on the same subject matter by Michael Coren, in today’s Toronto Star. As I have just told Michael, what he has written is powerful, thoughtful and poignant. It deserves our attention. Thank you, again, Michael. + The New York [...]
So, it’s that time, Single Daddin’ It, again. As you might recall, this is when the children’s mother is out of country and I am left to look at my dinner plate and ask it certain existential questions, like, if I were an animal (I mean, in the furry or feathery sense), just what restaurant [...]