Essays on creative leadership,
culture, and the human side of work.
Published weekly, with an original illustration. Two series: Becoming and Advisory Notes.
“You mustn’t play with matches, you know that!” Mom’s lips tighten, eyebrows down, the crease between deepens, and I know she will tell Dad. Paul was my first love. We were both four that summer, and we played together almost every day. I know it was love because even now, my chest hurts with the…
Heading home from my first day of second grade. The Alder and Maple are turning, but most leaves haven’t fallen. Reaching the wooded lot I push my way into a thicket, where I can’t be seen. Following my plan, I pull the crumpled check from deep in my pocket and glance around making doubly sure…
The demon inside awakens. I’m curled in a ball. I should be running for the hills. Judy’s wildly waving a meat cleaver. It’s beyond madness. Both of us crazy. Her with the cleaver me with denial. Insanity embraced the event, the event that changed everything. *** I’m thirty years old. Judy and I have been…
It’s Thursday, I’m sixteen. Schools out, and I’m pounding down the hall at speed –– hoping I don’t get nailed for running as I hit the crash bar, slamming the door back harder than intended, hoping I can outrun any repercussions as I exit. Running hard across the asphalt playground –– with its weeds growing…
My mother’s thoughts and feelings from the past. The covers are leather. Dark red leather. Green leather. Occasionally, pink leather. A few had little straps to hold them closed, with a lock. All worn from years of handling. All smelling of old paper slowly breaking down. Little books with lines and dates. Some had places…
When my emotions run hot, my skills go cold. “Teddy, what’s three times five?” Asked in a voice, I can’t ignore. “Fifteen.” “And what’s four times five?” More demanding now. “Twenty,” I say, dreading the next question, knowing exactly where he’s going with this. Knowing, too, that tears are about to spill. They do. “Okay,…
Acting out as a fostered and adopted child was my norm. “The lights are out.” “Teddy! Wake up, wake up. The lights are out; we can go.” Larry was shaking me awake, eager to get going. I must have drifted off. Lights out meant parents were in bed and out of the picture on the…