Happy Sunday!
I watch the news. I’m aware of what’s going on and whats going down. Only recently, since I’ve been working, have I actually picked up the Newspaper, and sometimes I open it. On one of these very rare occasions I picked up the Sunday Chronicle after opening at eight. I slapped it on the desk and left it lying there while I went around the funeral home turning on the lights, turning the phones, and checking messages. When I sat back down the newspaper was still there on the desk. I have always been a bit intimidated by thick stacks of paper lacquered in ink, wrapped unceremoniously in plastic, but on that Sunday two weeks ago I threw caution to the wind and ripped that sucker from its swaddle. Leafing through the headlines I chucked the bulk of the paper into the recycling box for the girls to pick apart on Monday. A small article at the bottom of Section G’s title page caught my eye. I read it, then purged through the next six pages to read the Continued article. Leon Hale, a eighty-somethin’ year old columnist, recalled one of his old teachers. He turned this fleeting memory into a lesson learned. Not very often do I read something so brilliant that it makes me think about my own experiences, and how such small instances in my life molded me into the person I have become. Today I searched for Leon Hale again, and found him in the exact same spot. This article touched me yet again as he recalled some old friends and good times, all of which have been dead for many many years. I cut the article out and tucked it into an envelope. I cannot wait to read next Sunday’s article. Any who, Leon Hale has a blog and I’ve added it to my links. I’ve spent the last two magical hours perusing his posts, so short and simple, and yet each one made me giggle.
