Frank Tate – the kindest, brightest man I’ve ever known – was born in Tuscola, Illinois, in 1916. He died comfortably, peacefully, in Carson City, Nevada, on Dec. 24, 2004. His final words to me were, “Don, quit fussing over me and get about your duties.” Frank was an …
My efforts at meditation aren’t going so well. I recently read about the benefits of meditation – particularly for people my age – but I don’t seem to be mindful enough while attempting to meditate. First off, I thought meditation and mindfulness were kind of the same thing. …
Two mentors of mine are Tony and Gordo. I talk to them when I’m in a bind. Sometimes I have an issue in my personal life. Other times it’s a corporate crisis, and I can’t determine the right course of action. Tony’s an old guy with a bony finger he sticks in my …
“We’re all old people in training.” – Joanne Lynn, MD My hunch is, most people don’t think about the ramifications of getting to be an older person until reality smacks them in the face. I still don’t think I’m an old guy – but age is creeping up on me. And sometimes, …
My dad’s dad, Hank, died in 1932, 13 years before I was born. A year before my dad died in 1999, I asked him to journal about Hank. To my surprise, he did. Here are tidbits of a few of his wonderful stories. “In the spring of ’25, an airplane flew over the schoolhouse, and …
There’s got to be a lesson for me here somewhere. It starts with my tube of toothpaste. For days I’ve been curling it up, back to front, to force out the last few blue-striped gobs of spearmint. This morning, a tiny dab of toothpaste peeks out – but then retreats back into …
Here is a situation that happens to me weekly. I’m driving on a two-lane road and going about five over the 30 miles-per-hour speed limit. A car comes zooming up behind me and appears to attach itself to my rear bumper. He can’t pass me. There are hills and curves ahead. I …
If you think of life as a game of tag, everyone should have a home base. Mine is a tiny office on the second floor of my house. It’s not much, but it’s so cozy and reassuring. I have a silver Hiram Scott College mug full of sharpened yellow pencils. Next to that is a …
Yesterday was not a good day. Here’s how it went. I come home from work with hardcopy pages for a book I’m writing. I have a great editor who has taken around 150 pages and used Post-it notes to tag areas for further development. This project is moving along ahead of …
It was a muggy July night in 1958 when I learned my life was about to change in a big way. I was walking back from playing basketball at Brookside Park in Ames, Iowa, and my Dad picked me up. Three blocks went by in silence. Then, about two blocks from home, my Dad said, …