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Time Remains Undefeated

Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind.  ~ Nathaniel Hawthorne Yesterday, my wife and I gave something precious to the United States Navy: our daughter.  The goodbye was swift.  The driver of her airport transfer van held the door open and our family surrounded Emily in the parking lot. I know my daughter. I could tell she was determined to hold it together. She wanted to make a clean getaway. If she could have, she would have blew a kiss and made a run for it, dove into the van and yelled to the driver, Go! Go! Go! Instead, she gave quick, individual hugs to her grandpa, her grandma, her mom, her aunt, her sister, and me. There …

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We’re Meaner

I guess I messed up on the road the other day. I didn’t turn on red right away, and the driver behind me took exception. She laid on her horn. About a half-mile later, she pulled up along side me and gestured to me to put my window down. I did. “Why didn’t you turn back there?!” she demanded. “Learn how to drive!” she screamed. This lady was livid. She wagged her finger at me, her voice, shaking as she spoke. The rest of my morning commute, I saw her face in my head and I wondered why that five-second delay in her morning so enraged her. I realize this encounter was minor compared to the profanity-laced road rage that …

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The Slow Let-Go

Parents have 938 weeks to prepare their kids for the world. 938. My wife and I are out of time. Our daughters turn eighteen this month. One is enrolled in college. The other has joined the United States Navy. They will dip their pens into the ink well of life and write a story uniquely their own. Meantime, we helplessly peer through the hourglass as the tiny grains of sand dwindle at startling speed. I want to reach for it and flip it over; reset it. Try again. Change. It’s equal parts exciting and excruciating. Weeks before he passed away, my friend Steve reached out to me and asked, “How can I pray for you?” Knowing Steve this didn’t surprise …

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My Time with Bill

I was sitting on an uncomfortable couch in the dressing room at Oprah; or maybe it was just me who was uncomfortable. After all, I was about to meet one of the most recognizable human beings on the planet—Bill Cosby.  I was his literary publicist. It was my job to accompany him to media appearances and book signings to promote his book, Come On People. It’s hard to describe how surreal it was to go from being a kid from Saginaw, Michigan to the representative for entertainment royalty. Until this moment, I had only heard Cosby’s voice on the other end of a conference call. Now I’m  in his dressing room. The bathroom door swung open and he appeared to …

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My Flu

Your mind is like an unsafe neighborhood; don’t go there alone ~ Augusten Burroughs I have battled anxiety and depression most of my life. I call it my flu because it doesn’t stay, but like any virus it has power. I respect it, and I realize that when it comes it wants to destroy me. Today, at the ripe old age of fifty-one, I’ve never been more comfortable with my flu and it’s never been buried so deep. I haven’t been this healthy or happy since I was a child. There are many reasons for this. I’ve picked out a few hoping perhaps they will help someone. After writing them down, I realized how intentional I must be in order …