I was in crisis. I was drowning in unaddressed and unresolved trauma. I could only see and feel my hurt. I was self-centered and thought my pain was all that mattered. I was wrong - very wrong - and I put innocent people at risk because of it.

I woke up handcuffed to a hospital bed. I went to jail. I went to inpatient treatment. I got therapy. Lots of therapy. I stopped drinking — and haven’t had a drink since.

10 years. It has simultaneously felt like 10 decades and 10 seconds.

A few weeks after that fateful night, our wrecked van was replaced by a red Toyota Sienna. We still have it. It’s got dings and scrapes. We’re on windshield number three. It looks its age.

But that van has carried our family for a decade. It hauls trash and ferries guests. It fits all 7 of us. It doesn’t plug in and there are no fancy screens. It just does what it can to make life better for the people around it.

All I can hope is that 10 years in, I’m doing the same.

If I had to distill a decade into one lesson it would be that what you are going through right now will not last. Things may feel impossible. You may be dreading today. But this moment is not permanent — and neither are you. You can change. You can grow. You can become something new. Life is beautiful. YOU ARE AMAZING. You are bigger and better than whatever is holding you right now. You are a child of God, and you are made of stardust. See yourself for the miracle you are.

And, if you want, be a red van. Things don’t have to be perfect. Good enough is good enough.

Hold on for one more day. See the sunrise tomorrow.

That’s all you need. It is all you have ever needed.

May it ever be so.

Last night Justin, kind of out of nowhere, started talking.

Justin: I have been scared about something. Is it okay if we talk about it?

Barbara

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Earlier this week, Justin’s usual bus driver was unexpectedly absent. That happens sometimes. Sometimes you get sick or someone close to you gets sick. We all miss days of work from ti…

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Five years ago Thursday, on April 24th, 2020, I launched the Combat Snuggles newsletter on Substack with a post explaining its unique name. That first post sparked well over 400 more over the next fi…

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I took the above picture 9 years ago tomorrow. I walked out of the house into a lovely spring day and saw this flower blooming in our yard. The flower was beautiful, and Barbara loves purple. I took …

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Today is Ash Wednesday, traditionally a day of fasting and prayer for some Christians to mark the beginning of Lent – the 40-day period leading up to Easter.

In some churches, the palm fronds from the…

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Barbara and I go to our local grocery store – Wegmans - almost every day. Wegmans is a fancy place (if you haven’t been, it is kind of like Disneyland for food), but we don’t shop there because it is fancy. We shop there because it is less than a half mile from our house. It has become part of our routine to get Justin on the bus and then head to the store to do the day’s shopping (we find that shopping as we go for meals reduces food waste).

Last week was Valentine’s Day. Because of our daily store visit routine, we were there on the day itself, and the day after as well. On Valentine’s Day, there were bright displays of flowers, a station where strawberries were being dipped in chocolate, and all manner of cards, decorations, and goodies in varying shades of pink. There were cards, balloons, and bottles of rose. It was beautiful and festive and looked like love (at least the store-bought version). There was light and hope and sweetness – both literal and metaphorical.

The next day all evidence of Valentine’s Day was gone. The flowers were back in their place, the strawberries sold or in storage, and the cards nowhere in sight. There were a few decorated cookies and some bottles of rose. On an endcap near the back of the store there were some remnants of Valentine’s Day, marked down for quick and final sale. All that had been bright and alive and full of color the day before had faded, pushed out to make way for the green of St. Patrick’s Day.

It occurred to me seeing all this that love is easy, or at least easy-ish, when everything is pink and fresh and bright. But what happens when love falters? How do you respond when things fall apart?

Valentine’s Day is great. Real love survives the day after.

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Love, exciting and new

Come aboard, we're expecting you

Love, life's sweetest reward

Let it flow, it floats back to you

Love Boat soon will be making another run

The Love Boat promises something for everyone

Set a course for adventure

Your mind on a new romance

and Love won't hurt anymore

It's an open smile on a friendly shore

Yes love...

I was raised by television.

You may think that I am exaggerating for dramatic effect, but I mean it quite literally. While my mom did many parental things (she paid rent, made sure we had clothes and food in the house most of the time, ensured we went to school, and had Christmas presents) she left the emotional work of child rearing to Big Bird and Fred Rogers and Captain Kangaroo. It was TV that taught me lessons about life, about people, and about the way the world worked. And this education would continue throughout my childhood and into early adulthood.

I don’t think my mom was the only parent in the 70s and 80s who outsourced much of their parenting to television. Most of the people in my generation had parents who loved their kids, but at a distance. I think the predominant parenting style in the 70s and early 80s was benign neglect.

TV taught me a lot about life. And it also taught me a lot about love.

One of my favorite shows was The Love Boat. Every

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Sunday is Barbara and I’s 30th wedding anniver…

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The word heresy comes from the Ancient Greek word haeresis which literally translates as “something that was chosen.” A choice. The word haeresis carried no negative connotation for the Greeks. An haeresis was the result of someone using their reason to decide between competing options. Haeresis was the result of deliberation. Making an informed choice was considered a sign of wisdom.

The meaning of the word began to change with the nascent ascendancy of the Catholic Church in the first millennium. To the church and its leaders, people thoughtfully considering their options and making an independent choice - a heresy - was not just bad, it was dangerous. The very last thing that church authorities wanted was to be surrounded by people with the temerity to think for themselves.

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Actor, comedian and podcaster John Hodgman (formerly of The Daily Show) writes a short self-help column each week for NY Times Magazine. A couple of weeks ago the …

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Greetings everyone. I hope you are well.

Another new year is upon us. It became real for me this week when Justin went back to school.

The holidays are a liminal space…

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Each year, I write (or at least try to write) a post sharing the 10 best books I have read in the previous 12 months. I think that what we read helps shape how we thin…

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My usual AfterAMassShooting Rant:

1. It's complete bullshit that these things happen often enough I have an already prepared rant.

2. Mentally ill people are not any more likely to s…

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The last couple of days Justin has been home sick.

It all started with him seeming a little more tired than usual when he got home on Monday. He seemed his usual self Tuesda…

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When I was in the Army, one of the things that I really enjoyed doing was land navigation. I was very nearly alone in my enjoyment of the pursuit. Most soldiers felt anxiety at the idea of being left…

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This week I have been thinking a lot about President Joe Biden’s decision to pardon his son Hunter for any crime he may have committed from 2014 to 2024. I haven’t been thinki…

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