I don’t really know much about Cord except that he was very personable, and seemed to enjoy his job and customers. He’s probably in his mid-twenties, tanned, and tatooed. I couldn’t see what was inked on his chest since it was only just peeking playfully out from under a muscle shirt that mostly covered by a short sleeved cotton shirt that wasn’t quite a Hawaiian shirt, but came close. Cord wasn’t bad looking and I knew that a surface conversation would be best.
There were lots of things I could have done (sleep in, watch reruns with Tex, or sign up for meals at the Senior Center), but instead I began checking things off my retirement to-do list. I picked low-hanging fruit.
Some days fail to live up to expectations. Monday was all I dreamed (and more). So much so that I can hardly wait to wake up tomorrow.
Speaking of tomorrow, you’ll really want to read about Cord and my sushi!
For years I’ve thought about my retirement this Monday. It’s a day when no one will own my time but me. No one. Except the bunch of things on my things-to-do-so-I-don’t-bore-myself retirement list.
In some ways, retirement is like being dead. People say nice things about you, but you’re around to hear it. On its face that makes
…”Absent a Damascus Road experience, tricksters and wolves do not change and see no need to do so. The danger lies in their lack of self-awareness and the fact that so few pay attention to their confessions, be they words or deeds.
If a wolf confesses, believe him. Euripedes warned, ‘When one with honeyed words but evil mind persuades the mob, great woes befall the state.’…”
I’ve been mulling this over since 2004 when I visited San Quentin with my peers in Ag Leadership’s Class 34. While there I learned that