I have a pale blue and white scooter. Her name is Jane.

I bought her after enduring years of circling Harvard Square looking for an open parking space. My Jane requires no such convention. After bypassing lines of traffic, I simply parked her on the sidewalk. No muss. No fuss.

She is the Betty Boop of scooters. All curves with a penchant for coloring outside the lines. Think Jayne Mansfield. Think Jane Russell. An intoxicating mix of fun and sass.

When I would ride her, I would often attract attention. Not me mind you, the scooter. Even the most grizzled motorcycle riders would sidle up to me at traffic lights, look over, and give me a quick wink of approval.

Harley-Davidson, take that.

"It takes 37 muscles to frown. 17 to smile. 7 to twist the throttle."

It's hard to imagine the woman whose name is synonymous with the Iditarod was born amidst the cobblestoned streets of Cambridge. But then again, Susan Butcher always had a knack for surprising people.

During the 1980's and 90's, Butcher won the grueling 1,100+ mile Alaskan dogsled race four times. Not only that, she did it in record time. She was a fierce and gritty competitor, a perfect match for the formidable snow-covered course.

In 2008, then governor Sarah Palin declared the first Saturday in March "Susan Butcher Day," just a few months after Butcher had been elected to the Alaska Sports Hall of Fame. It was a posthumous award. Butcher had died a few years earlier of leukemia.

She was a fighter on and off the sled, giving it everything she had right up to the very end.

"I do not know the word 'quit.' Either I never did, or I have abolished it." – Susan Butcher

As a kid, every Saturday morning I would sit cross-legged on the floor and spread out an old paper bag to catch any errant flecks of shoe polish my weekly chore might create.

My Dad worked on a military base which meant, among other things, that his shoes needed to regularly be shined.

At the end of every work week I was charged with bringing the leather back to life, courtesy of a can of Kiwi Black Polish. First I would smear a light sheen of paste on the leather and then brush and buff like crazy. Once the tops gleamed, I used a bottle of black ink to carefully touch up any scuffs on the heels. Then back into the closet the shoes went, ready for Monday morning.

If you have never polished shoes, this routine might seem hopelessly out of step. Even old fashioned. All the work is undone so quickly. Why even bother?

But acquiring both the patience and eye for detail necessary for such work is valuable. Especially when you're doing it for someone else.

"If both of your shoes are shined, then your best foot will always be forward." – Maryrose Wood

Maya Lin was still in college when she submitted her proposal to a design competition commemorating those who died in the Vietnam War.

Some questioned her inexperience. Some found her vision, the black granite "wound" as she described it, too morose. Still others raised concerns about her Asian descent, despite being born in the U.S. and enrolled in an Ivy League institution.

Now at the end of another bloody week in America, we are left to wonder where these names, and the others not yet identified, will be engraved?

RIP .... Delaina Ashley Yaun, Paul Andre Michels, Xiaojie Tan, and Daoyou Feng.

“Do not diminish who you are. Your gender, your heritage, your identity. That's what makes you unique." – Kailin Gow

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