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 donut and call it a day.
Donuts are part of the magic that makes life so sweet. I founded the Level 3 Friday Donut Club in 2004 and ran it until my departure in 2015. It had a three year run at Windstream and is now virtual, but at its peak, we had a rotation of 50+ folks who brought donuts every Friday. We had three simple rules: (1) five dozen (2) boutique shop donuts (3) by 8:00 am. This blog memorializes these e-mails to share my thoughts (and, once upon a time, announce the donut arrival). Have a happy Friday!