At the risk of being presumptuous, I’m going to assume that parents still read to their kids. At least, I hope so. My mother read to both my sister and me and instilled in us a great love of literature from a tender age—something that we both cherish as adults. To the best of my recollection, E.B.
In My Humble Opinion
Yep—it’s that time of year when Cupid is busily winging his way into the very heart of the Upper Delaware River region, and I’ve spent the past few days thinking about love and the variety of ways that it can be expressed. Love. You can’t buy it, can’t hurry it and from what I’m told, it makes the world go ‘round.
As I count the days in anticipation of making s’mores and basking in the warmth of the sun, I’m reminded that many of the events springing up in the near future have been (or are) in the planning stages months in advance. “What? Already?” I moaned, while reading an email.
That’s what the ancient Greek philosopher Heraclitus claimed anyhow. Actually, he said “change is the only constant in life,” but over the years, his words have been, well… changed. Either way, I don’t like it and I never have.
Memories are funny. With time, they can shape-shift and fade, but often they are instantly brought back to life by seeing an object I haven’t thought about in years, a whiff in the air of a once familiar scent, or the strains of a long-forgotten tune.
Those three words pop up frequently here in the Upper Delaware River region and have transformed the way I view art. While it may be perfectly fine to go to a gallery and stroll the halls making personal observations, getting a glimpse into the mind of the creator often puts a whole new spin on the subject at hand.
No, I’m not about to fill an entire page with sticky, gooey, far-too-sweet, lighter than air nothingness. Or am I? Not entirely unlike the marshmallow crème, a “fluff piece” is a form of journalism, even though there are folks who would argue the point. And in fact, it’s what I do.
It’s no secret that I’m Jewish and celebrate Hanukkah rather than Christmas, but since the Jewish calendar follows the lunar cycle, the “Festival of Lights” falls on a different date every winter, and this year it coincides with all things ho ho ho. And although the first night of Hanukkah fell on Christmas Eve, it’s still ongoing.
Oh, the weather outside is frightful. Even though winter has just officially begun, I fear that we’re in for a doozy, which my dictionary defines as “extraordinary” and “one of a kind.” As many of you know, I love getting out regardless of the season.
I know it’s a little early to start reciting “The Night Before Christmas,” but it’s been difficult not to for the last week or so because (unlike the charming poem), there has indeed, been a creature stirring in my house.