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Minor Annoyances
I always disliked 60 Minutes’ Andy Rooney when I was younger. He seemed to me to be that crabby old uncle who never had a good word to say about anyone, sort of like the actor Henry Fonda but with more apocalyptic eyebrows. I also disliked him because he sneered at Ernest Hemingway for the writer’s penchant for fistfights with men who had insulted him. All my life, I’ve mistrusted males who immediately and reflexively dismiss violence as an option in their daily lives. Ah, yes. Andy Rooney. “D’ya ever notice….? His end-of-show segments were a five-minute recitation of something or some things that ignited his ire over the past…
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Mountains To Moors
When I arrived at work this morning, I had to stare for several minutes at the dark beauty I saw before me. The lights in the parking lot gave fire to the orange and red ornamental maples ringing the lot. Goblins had come along in the night and stuck Poe’s flambeaux into the mulched earth and left them to burn until the sun returned to chase away the effect. Walking to my building, I heard two young men near a car talking. I winced at the tone and content of their words. It’s not an original observation to say that today’s males are not….well, men. There is a hideous softness,…