It’s a parental directive virtually all of us have lodged in our minds dating back to childhood days when our memories started to take root. “Look both directions,” they implored, emphasizing dangers posed by passing cars.
Traveling in America today has become a journey into the alternate world of sci-fi movies. I had the misfortune of being on a trip to Malawi in 2006 when the shoe bomber decided to attempt his jihad. We were scheduled to spend 12 hours in a layover in London where I had hoped to sight see for 8 hours. Instead we spent 12 hours in the international section of Heathrow reading the labels on chocolates, perfumes and liquor at the duty-free shops and attempting to sleep on the floor in eternal fluorescent sunshine.
All of a sudden, there are painted rocks along my path.
It felt “normal” and it felt good. If even for a moment.
Gov. Greg Abbott on May 18 allowed restaurants to increase occupancy to 50% and relaxed his earlier executive orders that limited certain other public activities over the last two months to reduce the spread of COVID-19.
Push Americans into a corner, and they’ll either start painting or enliven the crunched space with creative juices soon to spill over.
Every day I look down the trail in either direction, checking to see if anyone is coming. I’d just as soon no one knew I was talking to a tree.
In my nearly one-half century in the insurance and estate planning business, the stages of grief are ever-present when dealing with the loss of loved ones.
I’m as stir-crazy as anyone over this Corona situation. There are lots of moments and days when I find it hard to look on the bright side. The dark side is just so ominous and tempting.
In a normal spring, I would be writing about our successes in academics, sports and the arts, but this is not a normal spring.