This week, my mother called around 10 a.m. one morning to chat for a minute and catch up. During our conversation, I realized that she was still in her bed, waiting for an aide to help into a wheelchair.
My wife and I have been vacationing the past week in south Florida. On the first night of the eight-day trip, we took the hotel clerk's dinner recommendation and headed to the restored riverfront in historic Fort Myers.
As a kid, I hated Sunday mornings with a passion I now reserve only for unimaginable evils such as genocide and raw onions. Sunday - "the day of rest" - was far from restful for me, and I blame it on a weekly ritual, "dressing up for Sunday school."
Humans have long reached toward heaven. I don't know whether this desire represents an attempt to get away from the ground, an attempt to associate with God, or an attempt to peer over the balcony and look at all the little people below. But the desire to go higher and higher has long shaped the skylines of our cities.
Let your mind wander back to kindergarten, and think about those simpler times and all the fun you had. It doesn't matter where you come from; you have to admit that kindergarten was fun. You played with toys, sang songs, colored pictures of fire trucks, and learned radically new concepts like sharing and the letter Q.