Turning fifty was a major event, so was 21. But 65, that one really does loom large. This may be the season for something big. Perhaps something really special.
These past few weeks I have been thinking a lot about my grandfather. He was my mother's father, Georges Terroux. He was in the Canadian Armed Forces and he fought in World War I. His fight ended in a fog of mustard gas. He was lucky. Lucky because he didn't die, and lucky because he met the love of his life in England, my grandmother Margaret, his war bride.
When I was a kid, truth seemed simple. Over the last sixty years I learned that truth is not really simple at all. Truth can be surprisingly elusive, and finding it can require a whole lot of intelligence, energy and time.
Some devote their entire lives to finding truth. They search for decades in the hope of discovering the truth about tiny slices of our reality. Think of astronomers, particle physicists and cancer researchers. Some philosophers have devoted their careers to thinking critically about the very meaning of truth. Those explorers are the vanguard in the quest for truth.
For most of us truth is more mundane than the study of cosmology and the meaning of life. "It's raining"; "I'm hungry"; "that shirt doesn't fit me well"; "it's dark out". Statements like these are easily verified. We measure truth with our eyes, our gut, our skin.
When it comes to things that others tell us, truth is more complicated, though we can usually verify what we are told. I test your honesty when you tell me "It's raining". Your coat is wet, I see the rain, I know it's true. As I learn that you speak the truth, I come to trust you. Once I trust you I simply accept what you tell me in the same way as when I see the rain myself. The truth we speak, and the trust we earn and share, are the bricks and mortar of our society.
I know some of you have been anxiously waiting for episode four of the vlog.
But first I have incredible news!!
On Monday, February 27th, 2017, I rode my Vespa all the way to the south western end of greater Toronto to fetch some parts for our living room lighting. That was a first. I feel almost bullish about global warming (no, not really).
Well back to the matter at hand. Wait no more, here is episode four. If I were a more proficient producer, director, editor, sound man, camera man, script writer, and cinematographer, episode four would have landed in your inbox yesterday.
Find me on Earth: Jacksonville, Florida in the historic neighborhood of Avondale. Find me Online:Rocket and Me Interview Date: Thursday, February 9, 2017 Interview Location: Cedar Key, Florida
Last week I got a little lift courtesy of Ted Kettler's Motorcycle Men podcast when he interviewed me. I say a little lift because that interview took me from publishing my thoughts here in writing to sharing my thoughts in audio on his podcast.
I have had to scramble the rest of the way up to the windswept pinnacle of video blogging (or 'vlogging').
Let me know what you think.
I am brimming with a few vlog topics so this may not be the end (unless you are particularly cruel, in which case I'll take you on in a Twitter duel).
Finally, in response to David Blackburn, here are pics of those business cards. They are hot out of the mailbox:
That's what Sonja asked a few days back. But so much more politely, I hasten to add.
I feel that I need to say something to break the suspense, you all deserve some kind of an accounting.
Things have been hectic and I have had my hands full (Christmas and the holidays, professional stuff, estate settlement tax reporting stuff, the stuff below (read on), and on, and on.
Lately I have taken to sending e-mails to Toronto Star columnists. I have also written to the Prime Minister on two or three occasions.
We're not talking about angry Tweets, or dozens of e-mail messages, or about indiscriminate rants, much less unpleasant ad-hominen diatribes aimed at reporters and politicians. Still, Susan's concern is certainly warranted (she doesn't want me morphing into either Statler or Waldorf, those angry old muppet men).
That said, I may be done with the few topics that recently prompted me to take to my keyboard.
This morning I was ingesting my daily ration of news (Toronto Star, New York Times, and Quartz) and found it largely indigestible. This is a steady diet of worrisome stuff, after all. I can't write letters every time I read an item that rattles my cage. I'd spend my days doing nothing but. I certainly shouldn't devote too much time airing my concerns here, right? Who cares what I think, anyway?
We humans are ruled by hormones, pheromones, and craveomones.
Many years ago we were sitting around the kitchen table. We were eating something good, but it couldn't have been entirely healthy. The kids began to read the ingredients on the labels of the jars and other containers on the table. That's when someone discovered that one of the condiments claimed it contained "flavonoids".
It only took mere fractions of a second for us to invent "tasterenes".
In that same vein, yesterday I discovered that craveomones were ruling my body.
