humor

April 5, 2026

Beware, Especially of Bad Advice

The best advice about advice is to consider the source. One might do better to read from a blank sheet of paper than listen to an advisor with a track record of endless mistakes.

People do well to ignore the guidance of anyone who has not lived the kind of life they are shooting for, troubles and all.

Rather than giving you a list of what to do, here are a few mistakes therapists observe or discourage.

  • Avoid, avoid. Dodge everything. Take no new chances. Hide. Tell yourself you are too young, too old, too worried, too traumatized, or too insecure to take action.
  • If you are afraid of rejection, say no first. You will be alone for eternity, but you will never sustain the wound of spurning or abandonment. Your only possible buddies will be those who hide behind larger rocks than the ones you use.
  • Rationalize. Never admit fault. Regret nothing. Give reasons to yourself for what you did or are going to do. Take no responsibility. Blame others. Harm them because, in your mind, they deserve it.
  • Never be a Mensch. According to Wikipedia, Mensch is a Yiddish word that figuratively means “a person of integrity and honor.” Leo Rosten characterized a Mensch as “someone to admire and emulate, someone of noble character. The key to being ‘a real Mensch‘ is nothing less than … rectitude, dignity, a sense of what is right, responsible, and decorous.”
  • Make promises at the same time you formulate multiple excuses for not keeping them. Seek the absurd high ground of unreliability. Your friends will depart soon enough.
  • Cheat. Steal marbles as a kid for some early life practice. Tell yourself you will never get caught, because you are charming and more intelligent than all the suckers in the world. Consider it a calling.
  • When someone provides you with a service in a store or elsewhere, never say thanks. They are getting paid by their employer, aren’t they?
  • Never think about the condition of the democracy. Someone else will do the worrying for you. Persuade yourself of an excuse for inaction. Ignore the famous saying, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”
  • You owe the world no help, even though the world needs repair. Carpentry might hurt your hands.
  • Become the thing you hate. Consider your parents, siblings, spouses, and your boss. They are among the most suitable candidates for the list of the undesirables who ruined your life. Then become as much like them as possible, the better to ruin someone else.
  • Lie. Keep track of your lies for a possible introduction to your autobiography, and enjoy escaping the limitations honesty imposes. Yes, your kids and spouse will learn from you and be better at it. They might even teach you new tricks.
  • Don’t read books. They will destroy your innocence.
  • I had an aunt who was a grifter. She found used objects by dumpster-diving and resold them. Florence placed free ads in the Chicago Reader, mischaracterizing the loot. A man paid her top dollar for what appeared to be excellent audio equipment. When the stuff didn’t work, the buyer called to request a refund. Ever ready, Florence stated, “Who do you think you are dealing with, the CEO of Macy’s?”
  • Live like the world owes you fairness and complain when it doesn’t. Think of yourself as the most unfortunate soul on the planet.
  • Rank order all the injustices you endured during your lifetime. Wear a favorite t-shirt with the word MARTYR on the front. At day’s end, you will discover someone stole it, perhaps your spouse.
  • Think of all the ways you can go wrong. Bedtime is perfect for this, since it will destroy your sleep. Read articles about unexpected and unavoidable catastrophes. Give in to fear.
  • Let the days pass you by without realizing you are mortal. The horror of your discovery of a wasted life will descend upon you too late. Time is unrecoverable.
  • Make a bucket list and imagine the distant days ahead when you will do the things you have always hoped to do. Better than knowing you might be a different person by then, or deceased.

  • On the question of whether you are metaphorically alive, bury the thought. If the idea recurs, confuse yourself by eating blueberries while upside down. As an added bonus, eat enough junk food to gain weight.
  • Forgive no one. Holding grudges will improve your digestion. As the old saying goes, if you want revenge, dig two graves. Pay in advance.
  • Keep the TV, radio, or movies on all day, every day. Check your phone as much as possible, waiting for the job or mate you’ve always hoped for.
  • Seek the kind of work or play you can do without exerting yourself. The time spent on mindless inactivity crowds out other possibilities. If the environment is noisy, the sound will impair your capacity to think about what is important and how to change yourself.
  • Depend on others. Believe they will always be there to take care of you. Dependency means others can take advantage of you or rage at the helpless burden you have become. Ignore the signs that you are undesirable company.
  • Stay at home, collect things rather than experiences. Empty beer cans count.
  • “Don’t look back. Something might be gaining on you.” These are the words of Satchel Paige, the Hall of Fame pitcher.
  • Live with shame and embarrassment, making these feelings a regular part of your day.
  • Hide who you are. Never be real, genuine, or authentic. If someone dislikes you, you will thereby avoid awareness that it is you who is detested rather than the role you play.
  • Appearance is everything. Your clothes are everything. Shopping for the latter is everything. Cosmetic surgery will fix what your wardrobe can’t disguise. Live a life with little human contact, but lots of selfies.
  • Don’t display interest in others. Don’t recognize their discomfort or fragility. Keep thinking of only what you need. Others are irrelevant, whether they are homeless or your relatives.
  • Stay at home and do not travel. Shun the human race. They are not worth your time.
  • Glare down on everyone, as if you are royalty and they are vassals. Take a last, long look at yourself in the mirror and tell yourself you are the top dog in a dog-eat-dog world.
  • Steal dog food from old people just for fun, and, if necessary, even from your dog.

==========

The top photo was Laura Hedien’s entry to the Royal Meteorological Society’s “Storm Hour Photo of the Week.” The image is an Old School Bus during an active aurora night in Coldfoot, Alaska. The next photo is a Sunrise in Utah, August, 2024.

Thanks to Laura for her permission to display these marvelous pictures: Laura Hedien Official Website.

October 19, 2025

Laughing to Normalize Our Lives

The sky is gray today. A dash of dirt fouls the perfect blue of days long past.

I remember when jets were rare, propeller planes dominated the atmosphere, and skywriters created their art overhead before dropping it into our astonished eyes.

Don’t worry, I’m about to scrub the air clean and make you laugh a bit.

Things have changed. While they always do, many of these alterations have caught us off guard.

What do we do about it? I don’t mean improve the climate or our politics, but manage our attention, emotion, and the focus of our thoughts.

Humor is essential.

With that in mind, here are some suggestions:

Distraction, for example, takes several forms.

Travel to new places where the skies are still blue, art museums flourish, the food is delicious, and buildings withstand the test of time.

All you need are some air traffic controllers who are getting paid.

Alcohol and drugs are staples of self-distraction and self-destruction diets. An intoxicating choice.

Dance until you drop.

Memorize Edgar Allen Poe’s old poetry, like The Raven and The Conqueror Worm. These will make you think life today is far more delightful.

Persuade yourself that climate change is fake, God will save you because you are faithful, and those who suffer when The Iceman Cometh deserve what they get.

I’m not referring to the 1939 Eugene O’Neill play of the same name.

Meditate, of course, and watch sitcoms, too, perhaps simultaneously.

Refrain from reading newspapers, even online, and let the algorithms take you to calming, amusing, optimistic topics only.

Stay away from friends and relatives who want to talk about the dark side of life. If you can’t avoid them, carry a lantern to lighten and illuminate your mood.

Forget about Diogenes, an ancient Greek founder of cynicism. He carried a lamp during the daytime to help find an honest man.

Have sex at least three times a day. Partners not required.

Wear a blindfold so you exchange the metaphorical darkness for some real dark. Adopt a seeing-eye dog, who will give lots of love without the evening news report.

Prepare to move to the South Pole. Start by getting a top-flight air conditioner and wearing heavy clothes and jackets. Practice building snowmen to provide social contact.

Hallucinatory conversations will take care of themselves.

Recall the worst date you ever endured. Phone the person and invite them out for another try. This will distract you from the state of the world.

Bring aspirin anyway.

If you haven’t called your mother for a while, do so and receive the well-deserved guilt-trip. You will feel better once the berating ends.

Eat your favorite ice cream as rendered by its best manufacturer. As an alternative, buy superb chocolate and enjoy yourself.

When the administration defunds something you need, like health insurance or food assistance, remember there is fun in defunding, just not for you.

To close, the ultimate solution to living in our times.

Imagine you are Sisyphus, the ancient Greek punished by Zeus. The poor fellow had to push a giant boulder up a hill for eternity. He continued without end because the weighty rock always rolled down.

If you compare that to every job you have had, including your time of unemployment, it will be a step up.

==========

The top image is Diogenes by Bert-olgun, sourced from tonpool.com.

Beneath that is Sisyphus. It is the work of Hasanisawi and sourced from Wikimedia.org.

September 19, 2025

About Methuselah’s Autograph

 

On Wednesday, I promised those who read today’s post the possibility of winning an autograph of Methuselah, the 969-year-old man of the ancient world.

Unfortunately, there is a problem on the autograph front.

First, Methuselah didn’t know many words. Some have suggested that this limitation on his ability to think not only compromised his ability to write, but also the concerns and ideas that bother most of us. Issues such as status, wealth, and men colored orange.

He did say one sentence whenever he approached a desirable woman, however:

Sex, huh?

This might explain how he happened to father a son named Lamech at the age of 187.

In the ancient world, numerous con artists existed. Once Methuselah reached the age of 187, he became a celebrity. Moreover, proud of his new boy, he widened his vocabulary:

Lemach, huh?

As you can imagine, everyone wanted to discover his secret to a long and active life.

Mr. M. didn’t have anything more to say, but others, also claiming to be Methuselah, tried to cash in on his longevity.

It was pretty easy to steal someone’s identity in those days. No photography, widespread illiteracy, and no driver’s licenses or birth certificates. 

Bartering for an autographed papyrus became a common practice.

Unfortunately, the one in my possession is a fake. As Samuel Goldwyn, the movie mogul, used to say, “A verbal contract isn’t worth the papyrus it’s written on.”

The Methuselah fiasco must be disappointing to you, but do not give up all hope.

I am in negotiations for copies of Socrates’ famous Book of Beverages. 

His brew of hemlock will knock you out.

September 17, 2025

Get Ready!

Since I am well into the Social Security years, it seems entirely fitting that I should tell you what I have learned about aging. Some it it will be funny, some serious, and some both.

Put simply, I intend to offer guidance about how to survive aging (sort of).

If you read to the end of the upcoming post, you will be entered into a drawing to receive the only know autograph of Methuselah, who is said to have lived 969 years!

See, you are already on your way! 

Get ready and good luck!

October 22, 2024

Sign Language

Tuesday is the day the garbage trucks return to my block. To prepare, I have two jobs. 

First, I top off the landfill and recycling containers with the weekly junk. Then, I pull them behind me on their rollers to the end of our long driveway. 

As the Buddha said, “Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.”

His point is that life goes on either way. I don’t chop wood, but I haul trash bins. The Buddha would be pleased, and so is my wife.

Since the refuse vehicle operator arrives early, most neighbors do this the day before, around dinner time. As you can imagine, I live in an enlightened neighborhood.

Here’s the exciting part of last Monday: When I was halfway into the dragging phase, a beautiful, smiling, graceful 30-year-old woman slowed her pace down the sidewalk I was heading for and spoke to me.

“What’s your sign?”

Back in the day, this was a come-on. 

At a bar or a party, someone would move in your direction because they found you attractive and potentially interesting. Referring to your sign could be a conversation starter.

My ears told me the lady in question referred to signs of the Zodiac, which some believe explain your personality. 

They think your daily horoscope hints at what the future holds. Put another way, it’s like a Chinese fortune cookie prediction.

Well, of course, I am an aging babe magnet, I thought, and put on my biggest grin. The charming woman took one step toward me. I continued my gradual roll in her direction and uttered:

“Capricorn.”

“Oh, I like your your sign!”

She seemed enthusiastic to the max.

“Yes, well, it’s the only one I have.”

At this point, the femme fatale raised two thumbs and smiled again but turned and walked away.

What happened? I was at a loss.

Bummer, I thought to myself. Not Boomer, the derogatory expression some young people use to dismiss anyone my age.

Still functioning, I placed the plastic refuse containers at the curb’s edge and began my brief return to the house.

Looking back at my home and the grass in front of it, I figured the whole thing out.

I need to tell you that I wear hearing aids. Though they cost a fortune, they do not reproduce sound as well as tip-top ears. I am at the mercy of mishearing imprecise words and those at some distance.

Like, maybe the gap between me and the lass.

I am also subject to the clutches of a wishful thought or two.

Ahha!

The charmer wasn’t responding to my studly, hunky, ancient self in the way I thought. She never said, “What’s your sign.” She said, “I like your sign,” twice since she realized I had misheard her first attempt.

What was she talking about?

She referred to the placard I placed on my front lawn almost three months ago.

The poster promotes one of the two leading US presidential candidates. A bit late, I realized that the beauty agreed with my advocacy of one of them.

Harris.

See you at the polls.

You never know who you might meet there.

==============

The Singapore Safety Sign is the work of Uwe Arana. The sign below it is the Penguins Crossing Funny Road Sign from New Zealand. It was created by MSeses. Both were sourced from Wikimedia Commons

December 1, 2023

The Future of Medicine and Becoming Your Own Best Friend

The father of my 60-year-old primary care physician was also an MD. The older man was a solo practitioner, a vanishing breed. His daily routine offers us an example of the wonders and challenges of medical specialization.

You didn’t have to make an appointment with Dr. R’s dad. You only needed to show up and sign in on a blackboard in the waiting room. Each signee was seen in order.

Things are far more complicated today. I could give you a long account of that issue, but instead, I’ll offer a relevant but amusing one.

The following interaction between a doctor and his patient has either happened or soon will:

A man with pain in his right pedal extremity (foot) searched the internet for a podiatrist, a.k.a. a medical expert in the treatment of feet. A few days before, he began to experience significant pain in the big toe of his right foot. The soonest he could arrange his visit to the specialist was weeks ahead, but he had little choice.

After suffering for over a month, it was time for the appointment. The MD asked him to remove his socks and to stretch himself out on the examining table. The physician gently pressed on his foot, almost fondling it, before locating a tender area in the hallux (big toe).

He then compared the tenderness in the right foot to the same area in the left tootsie department. After much thoughtful consideration, the specialist said the following to the gentlemen attached to the feet.

Well, you definitely have a problem. Unfortunately, I can’t help you. You see, I’m actually a little toe guy, not a big toe guy. The big toe guys are in demand these days, but best of luck finding one!

Speaking of stories, I tell a few to Wynne Leon and Vicki Atkinson on their podcast Episode 46: Being Your Own Best Friend With Dr. Gerald Stein – Part I.

Our conversation expands on a few points I made in my blog post, How to Become Your Own Best Friend.

You might say our discussion verged on being X-rated! No worries. These two bright, refined, respectable ladies approved and enjoyed a good laugh. I hope you listen. Then you can decide for yourself!
—–

The photo shows a podiatrist examining the hallux (big toe). It was sourced from Wikimedia Commons and is the work of Wine France.

November 9, 2023

Learning to Laugh: Washroom Policy

https://i0.wp.com/upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/9/96/Williamsburg_restroom_sign_cropped.svg/240px-Williamsburg_restroom_sign_cropped.svg.png

We do our best to laugh at the upside-down world.

Here is your opportunity to join the hilarity.

A “memo” follows from the company stationery of a now-defunct psychiatric hospital in the 1990s. It lays out a new “personnel policy.”

I must emphasize this is a joke.

TO: ALL EMPLOYEES

RE: RESTROOM USE POLICY

In the past, employees were permitted to make trips to the restrooms as needed. Effective May 1, 1995, a restroom trip policy will be established to provide a consistent method of accounting for each employee’s restroom time and to reduce unproductive overuse of the facilities.

Under the new policy, a Restroom Trip Bank Account will be established for each employee. On the first day of each month, an employee will be granted twenty (20) “Restroom Trip Credits.”

Within the next two weeks, the entrances to all restrooms will be equipped with personnel identification stations that include computer-linked voice recognition software. During this period, the Human Resources Department will schedule recordings of each employee’s voice. One recording will be of the individual’s normal speaking voice, the other done under stress.

From April 1 through the end of April, the use of the Voice Print Recognition Stations will be optional upon entering the restroom. However, it is recommended that each worker acquaint himself with the new installations during this period.

Beginning May 1, each staff member must use the Voice Recognition Station in order to gain entry into the washroom. If the employee’s Restroom Trip Bank Account should reach zero, the door to the facility will not unlock in response to that employee’s voice until the beginning of the next month.

In addition, all restroom stalls are being equipped with “timed toilet paper roll-retractors.” If the stall has been occupied for more than three minutes, an alarm will sound. Thirty seconds after the alarm sounds, the roll of paper will retract into the wall, the toilet will flush, and the stall door will open automatically.

If the stall remains occupied, your photo will be taken.

The picture will be posted on the bulletin board by the beginning of the next business day. Anyone whose photo appears three times will be immediately terminated.

Your supervisor can answer any questions you may have about the new policy and procedures.

Have a nice day!

==========

The top image is of a pseudo-17th-century women’s restroom sign taken in November 2007 in Williamsburg, PA, by Kilom691 and altered by AnonMoos. The photo of a Bell & Howell Digital Camera is the work of Indiana Jo. Both are sourced from Wikimedia Commons.

May 14, 2023

Of Love, Hate and the Love-filled Joy of Children

My grandson got married, but I wasn’t invited.

Amazing, isn’t it? All I did was show him love and buy him things. OK, he just turned four years old, and his parents weren’t invited either. Nor, from what I hear, were the parents of the bride.

I’ve seen photos of him holding hands with his “wife,” even in preschool.

Shameless!

Who knows what they do when no one is around?

But if this is how love starts, I approve. Fill your hearts full, children, because life will drain them, too — then, with luck, refill them again. Kind of like going to the gas or petrol station.

As to anger, let me say a little about that.

Anger is like a multi-blade knife with blades sharpened to a keen edge, mindless of who it cuts and capable of slicing both ways.

Where does such intense dislike come from?

First comes love, then rejection, then reaction to the dismissal from the life of another. A whisper saying you’re fired, no matter how delicate the voice.

Or, perhaps the starting point of antagonism is a failure to win respect, approval, and acknowledgment. Loathing can grow from the absence of caring parents or the simple difficulty of achieving success, however you define it.

Therapists have all heard the conventional wisdom that depression is anger turned inward. Don’t forget, however, that anger can result from disappointment in life turned outward.

We live in a competitive world, including competition for mates. Someday these two kids will seek consolation for a broken heart.

Someone will say, “Oh, you are better off without him,” or “He isn’t right for you,” but such statements rarely console.

Neither do they provide solace when the words are, “Oh, you are better off without that job — it wasn’t right for you.” Of course, both the young ones are far from the job market.

As we witness a world with more than its share of anger beyond romantic and professional disappointment, many of us are triggered by something less tender than lost love.

Some feel displaced from their spot in the world, their previous role as a worthy breadwinner, or as a person known for giving good advice and helping a neighbor fix his car.

Populist politicians and their allies play on this sense of injury, fomenting anger upon anger like a giant test tube full of bile with daily inflammatory statements, addictive but strangely validating.

Yeah! He gets it. It’s not my fault. I’ve been screwed! It’s THOSE people. They don’t look like us, don’t believe in our god, and steal our birthright.

My grandson and the love of his life don’t know about any of this. They only know about respect, affection, friends, and toys. Maybe an occasional “enemy,” meaning a minor league bully or two, but nothing serious.

We all want love, don’t we? We all hope for applause, a job that pays well enough, status, and an appreciative mate. We all hope to be well thought of, praised, and admired by those to whom we are close. 

In a different world perhaps this wouldn’t be much to ask for, but these days we are too often replacement parts that have been replaced.

Confronting a sense of disappointment in life, too many hunger to pay back those they think are responsible. They only need a model and some encouragement. When all the guys are whining, somehow whining is OK, not as shameful as it used to be.

Still, we search for someone loveable. If politics enters that pursuit, it can be contaminated by opinions that tend to be unloving.

We are not as companionable as we were a few years back. Now we grind our teeth or laugh at the ones “ruining” our country, whoever they are, however preposterous the claim.

We lack the innocence of my grandson and his companion. Indeed, when she was ill and away from school for a week, he missed her and worried about her, dear boy.

Lucky for them, they are not on the internet, an occasionally monstrous place. Many of our interactions with fellow humans come electronically, where plenty of anonymous hatred can be found.

Despite all its wonders, metaphorical bombs are easily thrown by those who are literally out of sight.

If one imbibes the toxic message of anger now widely distributed, I doubt one will become more tender or charming. The four-year-olds have innate wisdom and sweetness, qualities not characteristic of those addicted to TV’s political anger-fests.

Nor will the Rageaholics have much reason to approach those of different races, nationalities, ethnicities, or religions, perhaps even those who pray to no god.

Trust me — one of them might be “the one.” Or, at least, a friend not so different from you as you thought.

We live in a time of loneliness, the anonymity of cities, and the solitary pursuit of “being your own person,” however worthwhile that may be.

Though the small ones don’t know it yet, the time of our lives walks and whistles quickly past the clock, especially if one desires to be loved.

Companionship begins with a decision to pursue it, knowing armorless vulnerability places the heart at risk. The kids haven’t learned that yet, either.

Bless them.

The second decision is this one, made by a wise man over 2500 years ago:

I don’t have time to hate people who hate me because I am too busy loving people who love me.*

An ancient Chinese man said this, but the kids I’m talking about live it.

————-

*Laozi, also known as Lau Tzu (the “Old Master”) born in 604 B.C.

The first image is a 1957 photo of Two Children Holding Hands by Irvin Peithman, sourced from Wikiart.com. 

March 12, 2023

Redefining Exhaustion

I was never the most energetic young man. It took me into the second inning of a softball game to remember I was playing the game, not watching it.

Call my adrenaline unobservant.

Well, this week, I discovered what genuine exhaustion feels like. Thank you, COVID-19.

Now finishing my fourth full day, I am a bit better. I can keyboard.

Here is an example: xvlW2k9*%=^

See!

This will be short. Oh, I forgot. I sound like a frog, too.

🐸

If you need an under-energized pet frog, I am available. I hope you like green.🤢

Of course, he might give you a disease.

To the good, I think my green phase is ending as of this afternoon; fingers crossed.

The advantage of experiencing illness at my age is that you can identify with the physical troubles of more and more people you know.

Sometimes you can recommend the right MD, medicine, the proper food, and other comments to remind them, “this too shall pass.”

Today I am reminding myself. That, Paxlovid and a wife serving as a benign caretaker are the best I can do.

Life, love, learning, and laughs go on despite feeling craptastic.

COVID-19 is survivable, yes; desirable, no.

———

The cartoon is called The Headache, by George Cruikshank, sourced from Wikimedia Commons.org/

June 10, 2021

The First Young Love

The three-year-old beauty flapped her arms to express her urgency. “Put those away; he’s coming, he’s coming!” The mother smiled and followed orders. The tiny sweetie knew a remarkable young man and his family were about to arrive. She didn’t want him to spot the box containing her diapers. Accidents still happened, knowledge to be hidden from her first love.

Who was the object of her concern and admiration? My not quite six-year-old grandson, the heartthrob of her sister’s kindergarten class.

W met his classmate, the older sister, soon after moving to the new family home. This was their first in-person school experience. Herself a cutie, Maddie sent W a note before her at-home competitor knew of his existence. “I Luv yu,” she scrawled, along with a heart and Cupid’s arrow. Writing, reading, and spelling are new to these kids.

The youthful hero, one of two grandchild carriers of my DNA, is the real deal. He is tall, handsome, and charming. Moreover, my boy is an outgoing storyteller and knows his future profession: paleontologist.

The number of those smitten is growing, sending similar love notes taxing to the postal service. Now you know why the mail is late.

Unfortunately for his admirers, the young man’s mind is on dinosaurs, the extinct creatures of his intended full-time occupation. Live beings hold interest for this prospective scientist for playing, friendship, and nothing more. They are playmates, but not the Hugh Hefner kind.

W has no idea he is the talk of his youthful cohorts and their parents, but he doesn’t appear fazed by the frequent tender offerings from the captured hearts. I’m sure the unawareness of his charm makes him more appealing. Asked by his mom about his matrimonial future, he said he doesn’t ever intend to marry.

Yesterday I watched a video of Mr. Gorgeous making repeated climbs to the top of a pool slide, then giggling all the way down. The young man’s joy should be bottled. The only difficulty was that each of the slides caused his swim trunks to edge south. W’s dad reminded him to pull them up. Insubstantial hips didn’t block the downward drift. God help his fan club if they should discover him this way.

During summer days in safe residential neighborhoods, you might see colored chalk drawings on the sidewalk. Some of these could be the handiwork of female children like those who dream of my oldest grandson. They display many hearts, rainbows, and good wishes.

Lucky adults like me remember those days. The world is simple and benign for such fortunate kids. It is a vision more precious because it isn’t permanent. Still, some will keep the sense of wonder, goodness, and innocence embedded within them — and be better for it.

We should all be so lucky. In the meantime, W and his lady friends — and I do mean friends — warm my heart, bring a smile, and even an occasional tear to my eyes. Such moments make life wonderful.

Note to myself: cherish them.

———-

The image is called Love Since Childhood by Katyatula. It was sourced from Wikimedia Commons.