The first knot I learned to tie was a bowline, or perhaps a cleat wrap. Either could lash a rowboat to the dock, one of my "jobs" when our family would head to Lake Winnipesaukee for our annual two-week respite.

When I was a tween I was obsessed with those white macrame bracelets everyone was wearing. Oh, and those plastic gymp lanyards girls made at camp. Later on, while working as a lifeguard, I would twirl my whistle endlessly from that homemade lanyard.

But my favorite knot-tying memory came many years later. While working in the dorm, I discovered one of guys next door had finally mustered up the courage to ask another boy to the prom. He was thrilled to have had his "prom-posal" accepted but immediately began to fret about what he might wear.

We bought him a special tie for the occasion, but he was so taken aback when we gave it to him I initially wondered if we had overstepped. Then he told us he had never owned one and didn't know how to tie it. Could I please do it for him?

Standing behind his right shoulder, I gently looped the tie underneath his collar. He watched in the mirror as I showed him how to tie his first Half-Windsor.

That same boy turned 29 yesterday. He's never forgotten that moment. Nor have I.

"We learn the rope of life by untying its knots." – Jean Toomer

Mutton Light stands on the shoals just west of Galway's Salt Hill. For many Irish emigrants, this was the last vestige of their homeland to disappear from the horizon as they headed across the Atlantic, bound for the United States.

Both of my parents' families hail from Ireland. My mother's, from the lush green farmland of Galway. My father's, from the gritty outer rings of Belfast. I was raised to believe that to be Irish was an ethnicity, a culture, a political reference, a religious heritage, a way of mind, and a point of pride.

I have been to Ireland many times, both as a child and as an adult. It speaks to me on a visceral level, as if something in my blood recognizes when I have returned "home."

In honor of St. Patrick, I lift a glass today to all those who said goodbye to Mutton Light so I could have the chance to have everything else.

"An té a bhíónn siúlach, bíonn scéalach." – Irish Proverb

From the Gaelic: "He who travels has stories to tell."

Spring....... FORWARD!

As of yesterday, Daylight Savings Time has officially begun. That extra hour of light in the afternoon makes the day stretch a wee bit further. It doesn't seem like it should make that much difference. But it does.

Go wrestle the beach chairs from the back of the closet. Dig out the sunblock. Move the t-shirts to the top drawer. Summer is coming.

"An extra yawn one morning in springtime, an extra snooze one night in autumn is all we ask in return for dazzling gifts. We borrow an hour one night; we pay it back with golden interest five months later." – Winston Churchill

Denise McNair. Cynthia Wesley. Addie Mae Collins. Carole Robertson.

The bombing of Birmingham's 16th Street Baptist Church took the lives of four teenage girls. The dynamite, placed under the front steps of the church, was detonated at 10:22 a.m. on September 15, 1963, well before the 11:00 a.m. service was to start. But beneath the church, Sunday School teachers and children had already gathered, including Denise, Cynthia, Addie Mae, and Carole.

After the explosion, one stained-glass window survived. It depicted Jesus as the Good Shepherd. Only the face was destroyed by the blast.

Survivors, extolling the details of that day, included the story of the passage the children were reading just before the bomb went off. From the Gospel of Matthew .....

"But I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you." – Matthew 5:44

On Boston's South Shore there's a five-mile stretch of sand named Nantasket Beach.

Back in the day, we would split our time between riding its waves and riding the rollercoaster in Paragon Park, located just across the street. The "Giant Coaster," as it was called, had wooden rails and would make this clickety-clacking noise as the car made its way up to the peak. I have no idea what sound it made on the way down. Whatever it was was drowned out by all the screaming.

Once our stomaches had had enough of the coaster, we would filter into the arcade. It was awash with sweating kids, flashing lights, the smell of cotton candy and the sound of quarters dropping. Pac-Man. Space Invaders. Pinball. Air Hockey. The arcade had it all.

I would walk by the crushing horde to get to the back, where the classic games were tucked away. After all, Pac-Man was for videophiles. Bring on the Skee-Ball I crowed. My arm is all warmed up.

"In the early '80s, the arcade game Pac-Man was twice as popular as oxygen." – Charlie Brooker

I had the opportunity to meet Sister Helen Prejean when she was on tour promoting her book Dead Man Walking.

It told the story of her work with those serving time in the Louisiana State Penitentiary. Each was on death row, moving closer to their electrocution with every passing day.

The movie of the same name, starring Susan Sarandon and Sean Penn, had been released by the time Sister Helen and I crossed paths. It garnered Sarandon an Oscar, beating out Meryl Streep, Emma Thompson, and Sharon Stone, among others.

Prejean was at the Academy Awards the night Sarandon won. After thanking the crew and movie glitterati, Sarandon urged those watching to find non-violent ways to end violence, giving voice to Sister Helen's most ardent wish.

All the lives lost through crime and crime's retribution diminish us, Sister Helen warned. She should know. She witnessed the killings.

“People are more than the worst thing they have ever done in their lives.” – Sister Helen Prejean

On March 5th (1963) country singer Patsy Cline died in a plane crash. She was just 30 years old.

As we observe Women's History Month, I am reminded of the many contributions made by Patsy. Remembered not only for what she did, but for how she did it.

She was a musical icon who couldn't read music. A firebrand who broke with convention by wearing pants (unheard of at the time) on the stage of the Grand Ole Opry, and later, the first female solo artist to be inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame.

Bold. Talented. Fierce. And gone too soon.....

"I'm gonna be something one of these days." – Patsy Cline

Yesterday the temperature outside broke forty degrees.

For months now I have walked my neighborhood with my chin tucked firmly into the collar of my jacket, the outermost layer of a fortress of clothes meant to protect me from the wind and cold. But yesterday I stuck my neck out of my cocoon. Like a timid turtle, I sniffed the air. I squinted into the morning light. And I saw puddles.

Imagine that. Puddles. The remnants of endless piles of sleet and snow, finally wrestled into submission by the sun. 

I stared into the watery reflection, cool and still. And then I leapt up and stomped so hard water flew out from beneath my feet in every direction. 

Imagine that. 

“Every child's first lesson in reflection, refraction, surface tension, colloidal solutions, fluid dynamics, and what not, begins with a pool of water on the road." ― Vineet Raj Kapoor

I've never been much of a jewelry fan.

I wear an old Timex of my mother's whose leather band has now softened with age. My wedding ring has three plain bands; one for love, one for family, and one for friendship. And I have one pair of earrings, each with a singular pearl surrounded by a small circle of diamonds.

My parents gave me those earrings many years ago now. It was such an extravagant gesture I still get teary recalling the moment.

Diamonds symbolize love so expansive, there are no words.....

"It's not that diamonds are a girl's best friend, but it's your best friends who are your diamonds. It's your best friends who are supremely resilient, made under pressure, and of astonishing value." – Gina Barreca

When I read the quote below, I was struck not so much by the message as by the author.

The "Wichita Lineman" has certainly had his fair share of troubles. Married four times, rumors of Campbell's legendary temper and wandering eye were routinely fodder for gossip. For much of his life, he struggled with alcohol and drug addiction. And because of his fame, his flaws were frequently on public display. Given his checkered past, talk of a clear conscience seems a bit out of character for the "Rhinestone Cowboy."

Perhaps the quote was an aspirational musing of Campbell's. Perhaps not. Either way, it struck a nerve.

In just a few days, the 2021 observance of Black History Month will come to a close. While our nation's racial tensions and disparities have existed for centuries, this intensified effort to both celebrate diversity while raising awareness act as reminders of the work that needs to be accomplished every day, of every week, of every month of the year.

Pillow talk reimagined....

"There's no pillow as soft as a clear conscience." – Glen Campbell

Yesterday I read that Calvin and Tina Tyler had pledged 20 million dollars to Morgan State College, the most generous private donation ever made to an historically Black school.

While their generosity is inspiring, perhaps the most surprising detail is that Morgan State does not count Calvin Tyler among its graduates. Ironically, he had been forced to drop out of MSC forty years earlier, no longer able to afford the price of tuition.

Now countless others will never know this circumstance, recipients of the need-based scholarships that carry his name. Paying it forward never looked so good......

"I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with a catcher's mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back." – Maya Angelou

A few years ago I was fortunate enough to travel to Shanghai as a visiting scholar. I had dreamt of going to China for many years and seeing all of the sites I had heard about for so long. The Great Wall. The Forbidden City. The Terracotta Warriors. The Yangtze River. Tiananmen Square. The Bund. A magical concoction I couldn't wait to experience.

Who knew it would be the roly-poly pandas who would steal my heart?

I watched them for hours; lounging, napping, chewing endless stalks of bamboo. Before our stop in Chengdu it had been rush, rush, rush. But the pandas and I needed time. Just like the bamboo......

"The seed of a bamboo tree is planted, fertilized, and watered. Nothing happens for the first year. There is no sign of growth. The same thing happens the second year. And then the third year. The tree is carefully watered and fertilized each year but nothing shows. No growth. No anything.

After eight years of fertilizing and watering, with nothing to show for it, the bamboo tree suddenly sprouts and grows thirty feet in three months!" – Zig Ziglar

If the wave of the future is bitcoin, then I missed the wave.

There are plenty of cutting-edge articles about cryptocurrencies, chock-full of explanations of deregulation, blockchain, market capitalization, and the removal of banking's grip on money supplies.

Is your heading spinning yet? Mine too.

My only "bitcoin-esque" experience was mistakenly trying to pay a toll on the New York State Thruway with a Chuck E. Cheese token. The toll booth collector looked blankly at my exhausted and bleary-eyed expression and drolly pointed out the error of my ways.

Arcade coinage? Yes. Toll booth passage. Um.......... no.

"Bitcoin is like anything else: it's worth what people are willing to pay for it." – Stanley Druckenmiller

My next door neighbor is a big strapping man with broad shoulders and a mop of hair that falls easily across his forehead. His daily uniform consists of worn blue jeans and old sweatshirts. Half the time he looks like he just rolled out of bed.

He rambles down the steps of his building at least twice a day to take his dog out for a walk. She is as delicate as he is beefy, a wisp of a dog that sopping wet might weigh a couple of pounds. They are an odd couple; this hulking thirty-something man with the kind of dog I usually see carried in a purse.

One day, when we were both crossing the parking lot together, I asked him what his dog's name was. He looked lovingly at her and said "Bea Arthur, after the actress."

Dog people. Gotta love them.

“Everyone thinks they have the best dog. And none of them are wrong.” – W.R. Purche

For my Dad's 80th birthday I made 80 cupcakes. The display covered the entire top of my parents' small kitchen table, hiding the worn red Formica underneath. Even my Dad was a bit taken aback when he saw it.

Using a piping tube filled with icing, I had marked each cupcake with a different year of his life, starting with 1917. Notable years received additional decoration. I drew two interlocking rings on the year he married my Mom, a plus sign (+) on the years his children were born, a money symbol ($) on the year he retired. I thought I had all my bases covered.

Since it was his birthday, it only seemed right he should be the first one to choose. Looking across the landscape of sugar, I told him to pick his favorite year. Without the slightest hesitation, he plucked one devoid of a special mark. 

Both confused and surprised, I asked him why he had chosen such a random year. "It wasn't random," he replied. "That was the year I enlisted."

Once a soldier, always a soldier. 

"Cupcakes are muffins that believe in miracles." – Anonymous

Tucked into 2,700 acres of Hohenwald, Tennessee is The Elephant Sanctuary, a place of rescue and refuge for both Asian and African elephants.

Eleven elephants, all female, currently make the Sanctuary their home. Described as providing something akin to "assisted living," the staff offer care and companionship to the herd as they return to a life free of hunters and circus performances.

If you have ever been fortunate enough to spend time amongst these glorious animals, their emotional attachments to one another are evident. Behind those soft dark eyes beat gentle hearts........

"We admire elephants in part because they demonstrate what we consider the finest human traits: empathy, self-awareness, and social intelligence." – Graydon Carter

A native Angeleno, Patrisse Cullors is perhaps best known as the co-founder of the Black Lives Matter movement.

Outraged by the treatment of her incarcerated brother, Ms. Cullors has fought for criminal justice reform for quite some time. Multi-talented and multi-faceted, Ms. Cullers has found her voice as an organizer, author, speaker, actress, and artist.

Her website describes her approach to art as "wielding discomfort as a medium." If we can change what we see, then Ms. Cullors is certainly doing her best to open our eyes.

"The question is not what you look at, but how you look and whether you see." – Henry David Thoreau