Brushing up on my offendedness

Over the holidays, I got into a conversation with my adult niece and three adult nephews (ages ranging from young twenties to early thirties), and while I won’t say it was entirely uncomfortable, I will say that it was somewhat uncomfortable because I’m not a very good conversationalist.

McMemories

A few years ago, I saw a Tweet about nostalgia. It was written from an Angel’s perspective while God was creating the feeling. In short, the Angel was very disappointed that you could have all these wonderful feelings from youth or the past that can’t seem to be recreated in the present.

Happythankyoumoreplease

When I was a kid, Thanksgiving was my third favorite holiday after Christmas and Easter (#1 and #2 respectively). It would have probably been my fourth favorite were my birthday to be considered a holiday, but since my name has never popped up on a calendar,

Hey, Hey, My, My

There’s a lyric in a song I like very much that goes: “They give you this but you pay for that.” Recognize it? It’s from “Hey, Hey, My, My” by Neil Young. Although my preferred rendition of the song is the cover by the modern band Battleme. And in their version the line goes: “You pay for this and they give you that.” Either way, it means the same thing: you didn’t get what you paid for.

The DMV, a place of endless lines and inspiration

In writing, there’s a saying: “Everyone has one book in them. Almost nobody has two.” I don’t like this saying. In my opinion, it’s mostly said by egotistical writers trying to marginalize those who don’t write or have a difficult time writing. But on the surface it appears true, but only because most people do get an idea for a story but they’re not interested in storytelling or writing enough to develop more. So they stop there. One story.

A trip down memory lane, see if you can guess where

One of my favorite things to do with my son is drive through a rural area at late evening during summer when crop fields are bursting and not yet harvested and the sky in the west is orange-going-red and it smells like late summer.

I’ve always been partial to rural areas, but my love of farm country developed when I was a reporter/photographer for Shaw Suburban Media and covered DeKalb County, most of which, as many of you (or all of you) know is farmland.

Makes sense, right?

Thought not.

The numbers say it all: A goodbye to Dwight Esau

You may have read in the last edition Dwight Esau’s letter to readers about his retirement from the Sun Day. Hopefully, you read it. It was superbly written, genuine, and heartfelt…heartfelt for me, at least, and I wanted to salute Dwight and his career with the Sun Day with a formal, public goodbye addressed to you readers.

Lend me your star power

I’m not much for daily or “hard” news. It tends to lean towards the negative. Take this edition for instance. There’s a story about the Coronavirus, human trafficking, falls, and a sad story about a family separated by immigration policies. It’s a serious edition. And I agree with its newsworthiness. But while the bad should not be ignored or pushed aside, I believe in spreading positive messages whenever we, as journalists and people alike, can, which is why throughout my career in newspapers, I’ve predominantly been a features reporter and photographer, choosing to focus more on people’s accomplishments than their mistakes or setbacks or less-than-stellar activities.

Part 3, Anniversary countdown begins

No, you didn’t miss Parts I and II. Read on.

Wait, which 20s are we talking about, here?

2020 is right around the corner and that just blows my mind, especially since I learned recently that some teenagers today refer to the 1980s and 1990s as “the late 1900s.” As if we were all riding around in horse-drawn buggies. I grew up referring to the 1880s and 1890s as “the late 1800s” but I was born very nearly a hundred years after those decades. So I don’t know what gives with these kids.

Thank you for my freedom to hate sweaters

When I was a kid, somewhere in my teens, at least, my dad got me an off-white knit sweater with a print of the American flag knitted into the chest. He immediately saw my disappointment upon opening it but rather than supporting the disappointment with his own, he told me I’d like it when I got older.

Almost thirty years later, while I still have the sweater, I still don’t like it (sorry Dad!).

Karma in the digital age

My wife and I are big returners. If we don’t like it (whatever it is) or if it’s broken, we return it, putting 100% satisfaction guarantees to the test wherever products are sold. After years of making returns, I’ve discovered that some stores are much more receptive to returns than others. Some stores take back their item with the same smile as when they sold it while other stores make you second guess your motives and feel like a criminal.

Fool me once … here’s an iPad

Unfortunately, at some point or another, everyone gets duped or at least encounters instances that are truly bizarre.

Years ago in college, a friend moved to St. Louis with her family, but she frequently came back to visit. On one such visit, another fiend and I went to pick her up from Union Station where she was taking the train in, but before we got into the building, a quick-change artist approached my friend and scammed him out of ten dollars by asking him to break a ten and quickly shuffling around bills until he was out the ten bucks.