Archive for the ‘Waxing Philosophic’ Category

Good Sunday morning! I hope the Easter Bunny is gracing your life with chocolates, ham, and good fellowship today. *Not listed in order of importance, obviously.*

I was driving along Route 135 in Massachusetts this past Friday, which is part of the Boston Marathon route, and it was one day out of a million that I didn’t mind being backed up in traffic. There were American flags on the telephone poles; there were tents set up in front of several of the lovely colonial homes; there were little signs every few hundred feet that read ‘Marathon Route’ making me realize I was driving on a road a bit more special than others; one of the buildings in quaint, downtown Hopkington had a massive bright banner on it that proclaimed ‘Welcome Runners’ and I couldn’t help but get swallowed up by the electric feeling that permeated the air. A lump formed in my throat as memories from a year ago–still so vivid and fresh–flashed through my mind, but my best recollection was the feeling of pride I had about how the city of Boston responded to those tragic events. I can’t wait to see how the city, the state, the world, responds this year, and I can promise you this–it’s going to be BIG and it’s going to be spectacular. To paraphrase Big Papi, “This is our bleeping city!” And tomorrow the world is going to see Boston bounce back better than ever.


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Good Sunday morning! If you read last week’s post, then you know I’m reading The Bully Pulpit and that it’s over nine hundred pages. Nine HUNDRED. Given that, I’m sure you’ll understand that I was unable to breeze through another book this past week.

So I wanted to share some news I’m excited about and then pose a question or two to you…

Hole-in-ones aren't all they're cracked up to be

Hole-in-ones aren’t all they’re cracked up to be

On August 10th of last year, I made a hole-in-one while golfing with some good friends. What a happy moment, right? Well, it was literally just that: a happy MOMENT. Because—after watching the ball drop in the hole—I was so excited that I jumped in the air, landed, and ruptured my Achilles. Surgery a few days later, big-cast-then-little-cast, crutches, walking boot, doctor’s appointments, physical therapy, you get the drill. (By the way, thank you Elaine for getting me through Every. Single. Minute. And MJ and Staci, you guys were no slouches yourselves.)

So a few days ago, on April 10th, I went on my first walk. Eight months after the big event, I decided it was time to get this party started. I ended up walking about 1.5 miles and even ran just the tiniest bit. Okay fine, it was more of an old-man-shuffle, but still! Yesterday, I hit the two-mile mark and did a little more shuffling than I did earlier in the week. I had tears stinging my eyes a couple of times, simply because I could go on a walk. If you’ve never had an injury, even just a temporary one, that may sound silly to you. But I promise, I wanted to jump for joy. (Of course, I didn’t. See aforementioned story about me and jumping).

I’m calling this week my two-milestone, and I plan to add to my miles in the coming weeks and months. I’d ask you to think about your own milestones, your goals, your dreams. If you’ve been waiting to do something big or small, maybe now’s the time? And if not now, then when? Just some food for thought.

If you’ve followed this blog for a long time, you know I don’t wax philosophical too often, so thanks for indulging me. I hope you’ll think about your own situation and let me know if you have any one, two, or three-milestones of your own. Have a great week! 🙂


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Happy summer Sunday to you! We’ve been sweltering here in Massachusetts for a couple of weeks now, but I’ll be missing it come January. Today I’m opting out of the book recommendation because I’ve got something more important to discuss. And I hope you’ll indulge me because frankly, it’s important to all of us.

In general, I’m not a person who gets on my soapbox. In fact, I tend to roll my eyes at people who always seem to be on their soapbox. You know the type. Blah, blah, blather, blather. I have strong opinions about most things, but I don’t like debates, and I don’t have a burning internal desire to make people agree with me if they have a differing viewpoint. Life is short, and I’d prefer to be a lover, not a fighter.

That said, there are times when a person has to speak up because it’s appropriate and because it’s the right thing to do. And in this instance, I do have an internal burning desire to say SHAME ON YOU, ROLLING STONE. My jaw hit the floor when I saw that cover on the news the other night, and my heart rate still accelerates every time I think of that terrorist being glamorized.

I had the pleasure of having dinner with three lovely ladies a few evenings ago, and all three of them have husbands who served in the military, and one has a son who did as well. Watching those strong women during our meal, I tried to imagine their past sleepless nights, when they wondered if their loved ones were safe. When they wondered if they’d be raising children alone and when they wondered how they’d get by if their husband or son was killed. Those women and their family members, along with immeasurable numbers of others, love this country. We sleep safe in our beds because of the people who are willing to die for our freedom. There’s not enough room on the internet to write about the debt of gratitude we owe our soldiers and their families; they are the people who make picnics and Patriots Day and marathons and baseball games possible.

They are the people who also fight for free speech and freedom of the press, despite the fact that it was used in its most appalling form this past week. To see a time-honored, well-reputed magazine make the decision to put an un-American monster on their cover is something I can’t quite process. He’s not a boy. He’s not a rock star. He’s a terrorist. He’s not a person who deserves a chance or deserves publicity or deserves anyone to feel anything but disgust for him. He plotted to hurt, maim, and kill Americans on a special day in an amazing city, and he and his brother did just that.

Like many of you, I’ll never forget the sick and helpless feeling I had when I heard about the Boston bombings. And every single day I’m aware of the heart and spirit of Boston as it has tried to heal and get back on its feet. So Rolling Stone, you may have knocked us back a step or two with your senseless and insensitive decision, but we’ll never stay down and we’ll be back better than ever. Boston Strong. Always. God Bless America.

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Good Sunday morning ~ it’s nice to see the sun shining after the long week in Boston. I’ve lived in Massachusetts for almost six years and have never been more proud of my east coast brothers and sisters as I have been these past six days. It goes without saying that Boston is a great sports city, and there’s a wonderful mixture of history and culture, education and tourism. But when Boston was attacked, it responded with passion, resolve, and conviction, and no touchdown pass will ever rival that. No offense to Tom Brady, of course.

One thing that really struck me these past few days is that it so often takes a tragedy to bring out the best in people. I can’t tell you how many times I teared up this week, seeing the pictures and video of regular people running towards the carnage to help anyone they could find. The stories are endless, and they’ll resonate through this city for decades. And I would bet my bottom dollar that participation and volunteerism in next year’s marathon will shatter any previous records.

So what I’d ask you to do TODAY–not tomorrow–is be Boston. Boston really got to shine this week because of the horror that came down on it. But you don’t need to wait for a horrible moment to present itself so that you can show your best self. Go be proactive today and make a difference in someone’s life. Whether it’s a kind gesture to a stranger, a long overdue email or phone call to a friend, a favor that you’ve been meaning to repay, or a household chore that would make your spouse happy. Go show your stuff and go be Boston. You and the world will be better off for it.

P.S. Big Papi of the Boston Red Sox said it very nicely yesterday during an amazing pre-game ceremony that honored the heroes and sleep-deprived officials who worked tirelessly to find the terrorists. “This is our (bleeping) city, and nobody’s going to dictate our freedom.” The FCC gave him a pass on the expletive, given the circumstances. It’s worth your time to watch it if you don’t mind the F word. Go Papi and stay strong Boston!


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