Growing up on Prytania Avenue did a great job at educating me in the fine arts of making stink bombs (read me), but in the area of culinary skills not much time was spent training in the Alley with my cohorts there. That’s too bad as I might have avoided a scary, (and stupid), episode in the first summer of my marriage.
If you’ve lived, then you’ve experienced death. Anyone beyond the age of 20 has likely lost someone they love. It’s been a number of years since I’ve lost a family member, but I’m not naive; I know the knock on the door will yet come again soon. Recently I received an email informing me of the recent death of a couple of coworkers who both have been retired for a number of years. It got me to thinking – when did I first experience death? Whose death did I first cry over? Whose life do I still think about often? Continue reading
When I think of the two words, ‘driven’ and ‘determined’, I think that driven applies to a singular focus. Someone who is driven sets a very challenging goal and then sticks to a plan of execution until they achieve the objective. I have known people who have referred to me as driven but I like to think of myself, not as driven, but as determined. Michael Jordan was driven. Even Jim Jones was driven. I was not.
I don’t consider the goals I’ve set as being too lofty or unachievable. I do however consider myself “determined”. Webster defines the word determined as being resolute and firm, of unwavering mind. Wow, my wife describes me in this manner, but she uses a different word – “stubborn.” In my life I have established a number of objectives and goals, goals which I don’t consider out of reach for almost anyone. Once I do set a target though, I don’t stop until I reach the goal. I have always been very certain of who I am and what I can and cannot do, what I am good at and what I am not and I’ve never been afraid of taking a calculated risk.
This month’s RTT writing challenge topic is birthdays. I’m sure Emily knew it was my birthday and that this is the reason she chose this as the topic this month, (and has nothing to do with her child’s birthday). I must admit, and I feel embarrassed about this, but I do not recall my own birthdays very well. I look back at all the stories I’ve been able to write from my memories and sadly, as I sit here trying to draw on important birthdays like 21, 18, 16 and the all so dreaded ‘decade birthdays’, the only one I remember with a lot of clarity is the one I wrote about in my first concert (read me). My parents had purchased tickets to Alice Cooper’s Welcome to my Nightmare concert in Cincinnati. It was my first concert, a memorable performance and a feeling of crossing over into the early stage of adulthood. Easy to remember, right? Continue reading