- Peachycommented1 week ago
Thanks for this. I know I spend too much time online—and more often than not, I am discouraged by what is fed to us by folks just like us. I have minimized my time over time. Some days I wish we never had the internet. Then I google some fact I “desperately” need to know and realize I’m no different than the masses!!
- Peachycommented7 months ago
“Maybe we should all embrace the downfall of social networks”. Maybe we can get back to the “real” deal of seeing folks in person—well, I think so anyway.
We have a plethora of social media online. I’m glad I never went down the Twitter hole. But I appreciate reading your musings.
- Peachycommented10 months ago
Like any perceived “challenge” we have in life, sharing it out loud—in the end—makes us free of the “secret”—and frankly, helps others. So tired of our society being obsessed with our weight and looks. Endless reels and Ads telling us we aren’t enough! UGH. Thanks for sharing your successes and yes—what seem to be failures. I like to think they are struggles. We all struggle.
- Peachycommented10 months ago
Such incredible strength, sadness, honesty as well as compassion and love are revealed in the writing. A reminder as well that what we “see” in someone’s life is often not what it “is”. This in itself is a reminder for all of us to abandon our fears to ask what is truly happening in someone’s life—-thank you for sharing.
- Peachycommented11 months ago
Thank you for writing and sharing this. Grief and death are subjects we quietly walk around—unaware how our silence is deafening. This is such an honest piece about how we can be there for others, how we must learn to move beyond our discomfort. Many years ago a dear friend told me after her daughter died that she wanted to hear her daughter’s name because it made her daughter’s life viable. It comforted my friend as well as her family.
Thank you, thank you for writing this for you and your wife, for Ruby and Hart and for all those who “don’t know what to say”❤️
My 97 year-old Dad who has dementia still is amazed he made it this far. In moments of clarity, he recognizes how the years have brought him to this point. Aging is a gift—and at 97–he knows it can be a bit of a curse as he has outlived just about everyone he knows. I’m so glad he embraced life like he did for so long. And to tell you the truth, when I tell him I am 64 now, Dad, and he tells me I sure don’t look it, that’s worth the world.
And it is NEVER to late to go back to school—for a profession or for joy.
In my estimation, you had an open mind from the start—they key to it all. It’s important to know your audience as well a way to deliver your best. I’m glad you found a balance that allows you to be your authentic self. In the end, you have a bit of the “to thine own self be true” n your side.
So many stories such as this that most people carry around in their hearts—like stones. Whenever I share my story, I feel a little lighter—hoping that maybe someone sees they are not alone. In such a straightforward yet tender manner you convey your strength and compassion for a piece of your life that is the fabric of your being. Thank you.
Simply beautiful. The relationship between parent and child can walk a tightrope of tension—-and more importantly, love. Your piece is a tribute to that balance as well as your understanding of how it is a part of all who witness it. Thank you for your words.
I can’t help but think of students in my classroom over the years who hid their “poverty” in various ways. I would know there was not much truth in what they said, but it felt awkward to out and out say—you made that up. It seemed like a protection for them. Thank you for sharing.
Such wonderful memories of bicycles. Enjoyed them all. When I was growing up, my Dad bought a bicycle built for two. What a novelty! We had kids from all over the neighborhood knocking on our door to borrow it for a jaunt around the block. My Dad never refused. One summer afternoon, my good pal, Janny, and I took a ride to the local “Posty” to buy some penny candy. I was the driver. Half way to the store, I spotted a dollar on the pavement. Not one to pass that kind of money up in 1968–I hopped off to secure the cash. When I looked up, my pal was screaming in terror on the back of the bike as it careened down the road. I wanted to feel terrible, but I knew that money would fill our pockets with bbats, fireballs and spree! I miss that wonderful tandem.
- Peachycommented2 years ago
There is so much in this article/entry that I have not considered fully. So much more for me to learn at 63 years-old due to honest and sometimes heartbreaking words.
- Peachycommented3 years ago
Your comments remind men’s f The Social Dilemma aa shown on Netflix.