April 20, 2000
Learning To Let Go

March 8, 2000
Midnight, And The Kitties Are Singing

January 5, 2000
Defending the Y2K Bug

November 10, 1999
Take It Off!

October 13, 1999
Guilty Pleasures

September 22, 1999
Getting Dysfunctional

September 8, 1999
Meet Jim Valvano

August 11, 1999
I Want My VH1

July 28, 1999
Burger! Burger!

July 21, 1999
Frozen Moments

Thursday, November 1, 2001

Today is my lucky day.

I keep telling myself that over and over again, with the implicit wish that the statement comes true.

The sentiment that people wish their world could go back to where it was on September 10, 2001 has been repeatedly heard, in public forums if not in private discussion. I was talking to Marty about how our plans for travelling to Europe next year will likely have to be scuttled, and he agreed.

Sighing, I said, "Why can't things be the way they were?" He knew what I meant -- I wanted to go back to September 10.

It's an entirely selfish thought, in many more ways than wanting to go back to a world where terrorism was something that happened 'over there.' Besides, I would be willing to bet that there are 10,000 families that wish precisely the same thing.

My wistfulness -- and took me a long time to get to wistful -- comes from my personal life, rather than a wish for a return to a safer time. In the last month, I have lost my job, my girlfriend of four years, and my house.

(The reasons for each are quite personal. Even though I use this column to vent my spleen, there are details that I will keep to myself, and that's not what this venting is all about, after all.)

After everything shook out, my family members did what family members do. They told me that everything would eventually be all right, and they were there to help me pick up the pieces. I moved my stuff into storage and moved in with my grandmother, who welcomed me back with open arms. I stayed at her house when my parents were divorcing, but that was a couple of nights a week off and on, and it was almost 20 years ago.

It's incredibly odd. See, her house is about 30 miles south of where it was two decades ago. My grandparents sold the land it was previously located on and moved the whole thing to a lot in Waxahachie when they both retired. So, while everything looks exactly the same inside the house, when I look out the window or step outside, the tree I almost broke my leg on or the pool where I hosted many summer birthday parties isn't there. The folks from The Twilight Zone should write an episode about it, if they haven't already.

With all of the changes I've been undergoing this month, it has been almost a soothing balm to stay here. I'm reminded of the infinite possibilities that are ahead, even though it has been nearly impossible to find a new job on par with my previous position.

I sat in the room I currently occupy 20 years ago, putting together my first newspaper with Xeroxed pages and staples. I slept in the same bed 20 years ago, dreaming of becoming a nationally known writer -- even though I could never have dreamed of the technology that would make that possible.

With possibilities like that, how could the future not be amazing? Today is my lucky day.