Looking back, I realize that a lot of the choices I’ve made in life have been influenced in part by worries about the future. I spent nearly seven years working for the environmental movement, and my twelve-year fundraising career was indirectly spurred by this desire to make a difference.
Then I’d borrow the little Playskool people from my sister’s Playskool house and have them toddle away in this pool. Step by step, I’d get them to make their way into deeper and deeper water until finally I had the Playskool people jumping off the diving boards.
To our esteemed BBC correspondents covering the primary election here in Wisconsin: You are welcome to the Leinenkugels in the fridge. (I don't drink anymore anyway.) Just remember that they are supposed to be consumed while cold.
The weather is so bad in Wisconsin that even the local Doppler radar decides it wants to go a to warmer climate. I kid you not.
I pulled the curtain aside and looked outside. It did not look pretty. It was raining out, and the streets were covered with a layer of slush. The three-foot-high snowdrifts were mixing with the rain and turning the sidewalks into slushy canals two to three inches deep. The few pedestrians who were on the street were trying to find solid parts of the sidewalk to walk on as if they were rocks on a shallow lake.
I think a lot of us like to fool ourselves to thinking that our scribbles of idle fancy and self-important treatises will somehow make a difference in the world and in other people’s lives. And the most bizarre thing is that this is sometimes quite true…
In reading about the history of Groundhog Day, I learned that German immigrants brought the tradition to Pennsylvania. Except that in Germany, the bringer of the news was not a groundhog, but a badger. The “badger day” tradition became “Groundhog Day” here because badgers could not be found—they are reportedly not native to Pennsylvania. However they are native in the Midwest and West.