I watched the white-haired man walk slowly into the bank. He used a cane to steady himself. He moved slowly. He looked very frail.
I knew the face, but I didn’t really know that face anymore. I had known this man when he was young and strong and vibrant, not when he seemed more like the men from my grandparents’ generation.
But though I hadn’t seen him for years — and though he had changed a lot — this man was still my father.
Until today, I hadn’t seen anyone in my family for roughly eight years. Although I never would have called us this when I was a child, the truth is that we were a seriously dysfunctional family. We didn’t know that phrase then — and even if we had known it, we would have been in denial.
When does healthy love become nothing but unhealthy obsession?
Attaining excellence may require some time in painful mediocrity
Nightmarish dreams mean dead can continue to play mind games
Now that his wife is gone for good, man is left with memories and love
Politicians trying to stamp out innovation to help monopolies
Why do we ‘need’ the newest thing? Is that where people get their joy?
Anarchist vs. minarchist debate misses the shift to post-statist world
Weddings are triumphs of love and hope over reasonable fears
Why are killing, maiming people elsewhere called moral, ‘legal’?