Life and Fish Tacos

I have thought that what I'm about to post here would never see the light of day. It comes from New Year's day 2019, which was not a day that I consider "light" in any sense of the word. I wrote it in a hospital waiting room, while my daughter suffered on the other side of a secure door through which I was not allowed to enter.  I can only share it now because we have come so far past that dark morning in the ER.  Much good has transpired since then. We are healed and are healing. She is now in college and living on her own, working on her coping mechanisms, and enjoying a new-found family with her soon-to-be step father & step siblings. She is beautiful, healthy, and determined to find happiness each day. COVID-19 has reminded me of the anguish of that January 1st of 2019. How many people since January of 2020 have been sitting out in their cars, or home alone, or in a waiting room, not being allowed to see a loved one in intensive care as they struggle with this...

“Hand me that wrench over there…”  “Sure thing! You mean the one with the blue handle or the hand-adjustable one?” Again with the hands! This is Part 2 of a column that Gary Bird and I co-wrote and posted back on March 19 of this year. In Part 1, we talked about our fathers and how their hands told the story of the lives they led and the values they lived by. Kelly Carswell added a poignant description of her grandfather’s farm-worn hands.  We also mentioned hand size, comparing NBA player Boban Marajanovic’s hands with those of tiny Kristin Chenoweth, the 4’11” actress from the Broadway musical “Wicked”. We mentioned Alan Alda’s unforgettable monologue from M.A.S.H. where he describes the miracle of the hand. I sent our family a text, asking to help me out today as I write. I requested that they think of the word “hand” and tell me what crosses their mind on the spot. What followed was a bombardment of phrases from the very silly to the profound.  “Han...