I hadn’t thought about heffalumps for many, many years. But as Lucy and I walked tonight, I told her we were patrolling the neighborhood for heffalumps. I laughed as I explained to my dog about why the inhabitants of the Hundred-Acre Wood are so scared of these fierce imaginary creatures.
If anybody had heard my conversation with Lucy, he might have thought I’d gone mad. But I was just having joyful fun — and Lucy didn’t seem to mind.
I had meant to watch Disney’s “Christopher Robin” when it came out last summer, but I didn’t get around to it until Tuesday night. For me, the movie doesn’t get magical until Madeline — Christopher’s daughter — unexpectedly meets Pooh, Piglet, Eeyore and Tigger while they’re on the way to London to save Christopher’s job. Every moment from there on is wonderful. But nothing tops the last few minutes — when Christopher, his wife Evelyn, and Madeline join all the animals for an afternoon in the Hundred-Acre Wood.
It was at that point when I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to be part of this loving fantasy of family and whimsy. And it brought tears to my eyes.

Keep your euphemisms straight: It’s ‘patriotism,’ not ‘nationalism’
FDA’s war on margarine is really an attack on your freedom of choice
Why do I suffer deep alienation when I fear I’m misunderstood?
For me, money always comes best when I’m pursuing higher purpose
To think clearly, turn off the tube: Your television is not your friend
Local politics isn’t a Frank Capra movie; it’s every man for himself
We’re neither friends nor enemies, just strangers who share the past
‘This path leads to somewhere I think I can finally say, I’m home’
When love finally dies, it’s like a fever breaks and the pain is gone