Sometimes change is great – like when a vacation is just around the corner. Or when you finally get around to organizing the garage. Other times, change is just hard and unwelcomed. I’m the kind of person who prefers to see what is coming. I love surprises but it’s better if I know what it is first. I like to put on a front about how I roll with the punches, but really – I don’t like punches. And, I certainly don’t like it when the punches force me to make unwanted changes. Read more
When I was a kid, my Mamaw had this funny expression. When I’d ask where she was going, she’d always gather her fingers to her thumb, waive her hand at me, and in a thick Sicilian accent respond, “Palermo!”
It made no sense. I had no idea who, what, where, or when “Palermo” was. And, sensing that she was not in the mood for additional questions, I’d let it drop. Still wondering… Palermo?
This next part is a little embarrassing, but here goes. Read more
I’ve spent the better part of the last twenty-five years pleading a case. My office was a courtroom where I arranged facts for a judge so that he or she would ultimately see things my way. Of course, there was usually someone on the other side of the room who arranged the facts differently in the hope that the judge would see things their way instead.
The judge didn’t always see things my way. If I’m being entirely forthright, then I must admit that sometimes my version of the facts wasn’t always the best version. Then, there were other times when I still feel strongly that the judge sided against me wrongly. My facts were better, but justice wasn’t served.
Don’t you feel a little like that when seeking justice in your own circumstances? You are dealing with a cheating spouse. Thieves run off with your car. A “friend” gossips behind your back. A drunk driver hits head on. Where’s the justice? Read more
When the girls were little, they would bicker in the backseat as I drove. I’m sure this has never happened in your world. Don’t judge. One day we were making our way from Point A to Point B and I simply reached the end of my rope. No one saw it coming, but as stealth as night a scream filled the car. It was loud, and it was mine.
After a startling moment of silence, backseat sniping melted instantly into laughter. Pretty soon, we were all screaming and laughing as if it were one sound.
That one afternoon of frustration evolved into a game – The Screaming Game (very original title). The rules were just as original – someone says, “Let’s play the Screaming Game,” and everyone starts screaming.
I miss that game. Not the loudness, really, but definitely the loudness. I miss the way fake screams sound from little girls. I miss how the girls thought they were getting away with something that they weren’t supposed to be doing. Read more