Once upon a time in the twenty-three-year history of this blog, a post could consist solely of pictures. Let’s bring that tradition back, for both our sakes.

Holy shit – it’s February and I totally missed marking the actual anniversary of this website, which first went live in January 2003. Even then, in what was the relatively-recent aftermath of 9/11, it still felt like such a quaint time, a time of innocence, of reasonable political discussion/differences, of basic decency and, well, sanity.

This website was a lot more frivolous then, and the content was a lot less voluminous. Pumping out thousands of words a week at about three posts a day is an incredible amount of work, and it didn’t always used to be like this. It comes naturally now, but when you think about and dive into the archives (or just keep clicking ‘Older entries’ at the bottom of this page to see how far back things truly go) I contribute a substantial load of content.

As a labor of love (I really just like to write) it’s something I would be doing with or without an audience, and that hasn’t changed in the twenty-three years I’ve been doing this. Not that you aren’t appreciated and adored dear reader (yes, you) – I’ve simply never been beholden to anyone or anything. That’s important if you want to maintain a sense of self in a world that wants us all to conform and be like everybody else. In the beginning it was mostly the result of ego and self-obsession – over the years it’s evolved into something slightly less self-serving.

While the purpose may still be one of self-exploration in the pursuit of self-improvement, my beloved cast of characters asserted themselves as proof that I do not exist in a vacuum of solitude. Comfort and concern are both present there, and I can’t do much without my friends and family. They’ve become integral characters to the narrative and plot that so evenly unfolds in these parts, and it’s been one of the happier realizations of these decades that they drive so much of what I do.

And so we slide officially into our twenty-third year of this messy, moody, magnificent morass where I’ve exposed bits and bobs of vulnerability, haughtiness, hubris, doubt, insecurity, joy, pleasure, sorrow, rage, reckoning and beautiful ruin – and I’ll keep doing this for as long as I can stand it. Happy 23rd!!

Ann and I were texting memories of the Saturday night card games of our youth, and both of us realized that we wouldn’t change a thing about those days. It got me thinking how absolutely lucky we were to have grown up in the 80’s, in a world before the internet, before cel phones, before the wretched madness that has gripped this country.

We roamed the streets and neighborhoods freely from dawn to dusk, returning home only for dinner and darkness. In so many ways and respects, we were so much more free and untethered to surveillance and hovering parents – and so much better for it. We were organically learning lessons on how to survive on our own – and the first part was being ok on your own, unattached to the security blanket of a phone. It taught us real independence, and the ability to find our way without help or instruction or support.

When we weren’t playing cards with the ladies, Ann and I would traverse the little city we called home with our friends, reveling in our freedom and reveling in our friendship.

Whenever I find myself getting upset at another driver on the road, I try to channel Ferris Bueller’s father. At the end of that movie, he is driving behind an ancient woman who is going well below the speed limit, swerving wildly, and acting all kinds of a menace. As he finally manages to pass her he gives a wave and a smile dripping with just the slightest bit of snark. He gets a bit muffed and annoyed, throwing his hands up in exasperation at one point, but mostly he just goes about his way, nonchalantly unbothered and unaffected.

In almost all road rage situations, there is only one party truly getting upset and angry, and it’s rarely the clueless perpetrator of poor driving. It’s best to just decide not to turn to rage, like the father of Ferris Bueller. All the best life lessons can be found in the movies of the 80’s. What a privilege to grow up in the hot bed of such knowledge.

“Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

It appeared at a distance, then quickly advanced. In the sky, it looked like a hawk at first, but everything looked redder in the late day’s last bit of sun. The wingspan seemed larger than a hawk’s and as it neared I could see it was a bald eagle.

Might and majesty cresting overhead against a brilliant blue sky. This was the second one I’d seen in about as many months, and in the same area as well – they must reside in the nearby vicinity. A comforting thought unless you’re a fish or squirrel. Although if you’re a fish or a squirrel I suppose that’s just a small portion of the daily worries, especially in the winter.

When you boil things down to survival, so little else feels important.