One definition of masochism is taking your 5-year-old grandson to a children's museum during school vacation week. But take him we did, to the EcoTarium in Worcester, Mass., where he joined the multitudes in twirling dials, pressing buttons, dashing from exhibit to exhibit and ignoring whatever science lesson the display was attempting to teach. As he did so, I found myself thinking back three decades to when the place was known as the Worcester Science Center and we took our own three children there and they too twirled, whirled and ignored. They were about Max's age, with school, jobs and crucial life choices all ahead of them. Thinking about that, I shed a tiny tear. But just one.
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I remember when comic strips were actually comic.
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When I hear about Obama being criticized for shaking hands with the likes of Hugo Chavez, I recall the words of JFK: "Civility is not a sign of weakness, and sincerity is always subject to proof." (In reality, those were probably speechwriter Ted Sorensen's words, but the point is the same.)
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My cold is keeping Kleenex in business.
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"The Dutchman" may be the greatest love song ever written. It's about a senile man whose wife remembers for him when he was young and strong. The lyrics are by Michael Smith and can be found at www.artistsofnote.com/michael/lyrics/dutchman.shtml (but hurry back here), and I think that Liam Clancy sings it best.
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