Friday Donuts

Friends, As the first quarter of 2023 draws to a close, I’m reminded time flies. The ever growing past is ever present. The farmhouse demolished years ago still smells like floor wax, cigarettes and scrambled eggs. That missed opportunity still feels like it might yet be seized. Your dear departed friend, whose contact is still on your phone, awaits your call. If only. But what if memories were not the only way to go back? What if you could  actually go back? If eternity is a dimension above time-space, it opens the possibility of accessing our lifespan like a book. If you could retrace your steps and relive your life, would you change anything? Of course, if you did it would destroy your current self, after all, you are the product of your personal history. Maybe you can’t change it, only revisit it. If that’s the case, I propose you create a life you’d want to relive. Smile more. Be curious and kind. Treat yourself to a donut now and again. Happy Friday!

Friends, I’d crossed that ordinary pedestrian bridge dozens of times. Big Dry Creek flowing picturesquely under the flat concrete slab. Pretty, yet somehow unremarkable. Then, one day, I notice it. In an instant, the mundane pothole transformed into a puzzling mystery. The crumbling cement revealed a bone. Now, I’m no bone expert, but I am an expert speculator. In no time flat, a narrative had emerged in my head. The telltale bone had freed itself to seek justice. Surely this was no mere cow bone. Any self-respecting engineer would eschew a building material so likely to create a structural weakness. No, it must have been hidden there under the cover of night, in hopes of never being discovered. Could it be human? Could it be… murder? Was the rest of the body laying there waiting to be unearthed? How had this poor soul come to such a foul end? The bridge must be several decades old. Had the family found closure? Surely I’ve let my imagination go too far. Again. Or have I? Best grab a d

Friends, Saint Patrick was not Irish, yet St. Patrick’s day is the quintessential Irish holiday. There probably were no snakes in Ireland, yet he drove them into the sea. Potatoes are native to the Americas, yet the Irish diaspora forever associated them with famine. As we prepare to celebrate with shamrocks, green beer, leprechauns, beef and cabbage, I ponder how many of these things are truly Irish. I suppose it doesn’t matter. I bite into my lucky green donut and enjoy that pinch-proof feeling conferred by my green boxer briefs, which cover ~12% of my body—roughly corresponding to my Irish DNA makeup. Happy St. Patty’s day, y’all!

Friends, How restful is your sleep? I’d say mine’s pretty decent. Out for the count by ten, up by dawn; I try to put in a good eight hours every night. I do wake up intermittently, so it’s hard to be certain—a health tracker might remove uncertainty, but where’s the fun in that? Whenever my mind is racing and Morpheus eludes me, my thoughts wander to my old childhood haunts where I know I’ll find my Zs swinging from a familiar tree or waiting around an adobe corner. It may take a minute, or an hour, but it’s comforting to know my next heartbeat might bring sleep in its wake—and with it, perhaps a sweet dream where donuts feature prominently. Happy Friday!

Friends, Regardless of whether Kevin Hart and Will Smith can pull-off a  Planes, Trains and Automobiles  remake, this week’s news got me thinking of the classic 1987 comedy. Planes . Five recent runway close calls, with planes pulling up at the last minute to avoid a collision, will be the focus of the confirmation hearings for the new FAA administrator. Trains . Two trains to be precise. One toxic, the other Greek. The latter is tragic and the former reeks! Automobiles . This week, Tesla’s chief executive regained his title of richest man in the world, then lost it again two days later. Bummer, dude! As for donuts, there are no newsworthy events to report. I guess no news is good news. Happy Friday!