For the past three weeks, I’ve been battling a very minor health crisis that has knocked me back on my ‘tuck-and-roll.’ Because of this I’ve been remiss on doing any ‘real’ writing, relying on the time-tested skill of doing as little a possible while I continue to recover.

It has me thinking about two things — time and of course, writing. First, let me share a thought on time:

When I was a kid, I lived on ‘Indian time.’ No watches or things like that.

It was the shadow of a tree, the position of the sun, even the buzz and pop of mercury-vapor street light’s coming on, a sense of passage, not a ‘true measurement,’ as the modern man expresses his relationship with time. To this day, much to my wife and some of my friend’s chagrin, I still ‘practice’ this sort of ‘time-keeping.’

Rarely do I carry my pocket watch and I don’t wear a wrist watch. In fact my only ‘timepiece’ is on my cellphone and I leave that behind when I go out into the wilds of nature.

It is far more relaxing than to constantly worry about the face of a clock and it’s ever busily moving hands or a set of flashing digital numbers.

Now for that other thing…

A fellow-writer, whose blog I follow, recently questioned ‘why’ he is writing. He discovered that he does it to keep himself healthy — mentally and spiritually.

Many of us begin not knowing the ‘why,’ astonishingly (and in most cases, blissfully) unaware of what we’re getting ourselves into. I began when I was nine-years-old, being lonely and feeling misunderstood, by journaling, then branching out into short stories and poetry.

Then one day, we awaken and say ‘Why do this thing?’

It generally comes at that point where we’re uncertain if we want to continue or if we plan to continue — what is the outcome we’re expecting to reach. And the majority of us say, ‘I write for me, first.’

Sounds selfish, but it isn’t. It is, instead the process of healing, sharing, integrating — and it all begins within us.

Finally, I’m a firm believer that if more people took the time to write, they’d see less struggle and conflict in their lives because they’d busily see each encounter as an opportunity to explore, research, and think about, putting into words, their experiences. And by doing so, they’d come to a better understanding of the other person, if not the world and themselves.

As for that health crisis — given the time, it is resolving itself.

A number of airlines are offering the option of identifying one’s gender with the title of ‘Mx.’ Perhaps it stands for ‘mixed.’

The U.S. Navy — kinda like Uber or Lyft — but only for the Marines.

The Del Norte County Sheriff’s Office is asking for your help in locating a 32-year-old woman, who disappeared shortly after going to pick up a friend at a San Francisco, California hospital. Kimberly ‘Cheri’ Clifton-Madsen was last heard from February 1, 2019.

Cheri is five-foot-nine-inches tall, weighs about 125 pounds, has shoulder length, blonde hair and blue eyes. Other distinguishing features include nose and ear piercings, a small celtic cross on her upper left thumb, two stars on her back at the base of her neck, a heart on her right knee and a dragon-fly with stars on her left bicep.

Her friend, 29-year-old Anthony Blake Deines, is missing as well after last contacting his family on January 31, 2019. He’s six-foot-four-inches, 210 pounds, with brown hair and eyes and recently had surgery.

If you have any information on or have seen either Cheri or Anthony, you’re asked to contact the DNSO at (707) 464-4191, ext. 6.

I used to live on the cutting-edge. Discovered it to be dull.

At one time, we only had the back of the cereal box to read during breakfast, not our smartphones.

The weather was sunny and warm, perfect for a swim in the creek. But John could only sit and watch as the other children joined in.

His bedroom overlooked their old swimming hole. It had been years since any of the neighborhood kids swam there.

As he watched, John smiled, enjoying the sight of the youngsters frolicking with wild abandon. It made him wish for his younger years.

The old rope swing seemed as strong as ever as it sent one child after another out over the deeper part of the hole. From there, he remembered, he could do cannon balls, belly flops and once, he even attempted a swan dive.

“It was only once,” he mumbled.

“What did you say, John?” his nurse asked.

“Aw, nothing,” he answered, “Jus’ thinking out loud.”

The nurse step behind him, reached down and unlocked the chair’s wheels before carefully moving him towards the bathroom. It was time for John’s daily bowel program.

No one’s ever finished the question, “What Would Jack Daniel..?”

Whose the idiot that keeps shaking the snow globe? Whoever you are, set it down, leave it alone and let us thaw out!

Democrats in Virginia are into burning yearbooks. They need to destroy evidence of any ‘wrong doing’ while attending high school or college.